Nathalie's Resolution
by I Write Big
Summary: It's New Year's Eve and Adrien wants nothing more than to celebrate outside as Chat Noir but he's stuck at home with Nathalie with nothing to do. Maybe he can sneak out. Or maybe he should stay and talk it out.
1. Chapter 1

_PROJECT ML STORY 2!_

 _PREMISE: Just write something about New Year's. (I'm serious)_

 _So this is the shortest thing I've ever written. But that's only because I wrote it in one night since I was asked to on such short notice and I have holiday plans. Once again you can read this and other New Year's Miraculous stuff on the Project ML tumblr! CHECK IT OUT!_

Thanks again to my beta: The-Bored-Bookworm

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _A Miraculous New Year's Short  
_ By: I Write Big

Twenty-two more minutes.

Only twenty-two more minutes left in the year and his father couldn't be there for them. Adrien slumped in his chair, rolling his empty flute glass between his fingers. The still unopened champagne bottle waited on the coffee table. The night had started with such promise. His father had made an extra effort to have all his year-end responsibilities for the Gabriel fashion company tied up so the two could do the countdown together. However, like every other holiday, something came out of nowhere. Some big emergency that absolutely required the attention of the always working Gabriel Agreste and could not wait twenty-two more minutes.

It was times like these that Adrien often donned his Chat Noir persona and took to the city. A freeing flight across the rooftops always made him feel better. Unfortunately, this time, his father had ordered Nathalie to stay by his side until he returned. The woman sat professionally in the armchair next to him. She was a perfect statue with an almost bored stare pointed at the live broadcast of the huge celebration being held at the Arc de Triomphe. The announcer's voice echoed across the gigantic living room, reminding Adrien just how empty this mansion was.

"You don't have to watch me, Nathalie."

Her half-lidded gaze remained on the screen as she said, "Your father asked me to stay."

He crossed his arms, "Why? I'm not a little kid."

"It may have something to do with you running away last week only to be brought home by a complete stranger," she said in a tone that suggested her theory was more of a fact than a guess.

"Hey, that Santa was a very kind man." That Christmas adventure had cost Adrien a lot of his already restricted freedom. His father had made him sit in his office every day so he could 'keep him safe' while he worked. Adrien was grateful that there were no Akuma attacks in those days. "Besides, it's not like I'm planning to jump out the window as soon as your back is turned."

Nathalie didn't respond. She only turned to face him.

"Okay, maybe I was."

She muted the TV, "I understand you want to spend time with your father, Adrien, but this is not the way to get his attention. He tried his best to be here tonight. He's just a very important man."

"And I'm not important?"

"He loves you."

Adrien bit back his next words. He knew what Nathalie said was true. Despite how little time he and his father spent together, those few moment were always filled with a kind and gentle warmth that could only be love. Was it selfish to want those days to last longer? Should he give his father a break? These were the kind of questions that he could stop thinking about when he was Chat Noir. Again, he had the urge to say the magic words and disappear into the night. Maybe he could join the crowd at the Arc de Triomphe.

They'd love to have their hero there.

They wouldn't have to leave last minute.

They'd actually have time to spend with their family.

Family…

"Nathalie… why are you here?"

For the first time in their conversation, her bored, inexpressive face cracked. It was a simple eyebrow raise, but it was something. "Your father asked me to watch you."

"No, I know that, what I mean is..." he stood up and observed her as if for the first time. "Why are you _here_? It's New Year's Eve and you're _here_. In fact, you were _here_ for Christmas, too. Doesn't my father give you days off?"

The stray eyebrow returned to its previously straight form, "Of course he does, Adrien."

"So?" he pressed. "Why are you spending the Holidays with us? Why are you sitting here with me on New Year's?"

The question went unanswered for what felt like a full minute before she picked up the remote and opened the TV settings, "Perhaps a video game could help take your mind off things."

Adrien was struck. His father's assistant had always spoken in a calm, formal manner with direct, straight to the point answers. Even the prospect of telling her boss that he was wrong didn't frighten her. It was the main reason she was hired. She had never, as long as he could remember, avoided any topic. He was almost afraid to ask but his curiosity was burning, "Nathalie, why aren't you with your family?"

The TV turned off. Nathalie put the remote down and excused herself from the room. The boy was left in the empty silence. Multiple unguarded windows waited for him to slip through. Paris on the other side shined with promises of excitement. However, the drive to go was long gone. Instead, Adrien felt a crushing need to follow Nathalie.

He found her at her desk, of all places, typing away at the computer. The click-clacking of the keyboard filled Adrien with guilt. Clearly, he had overstepped his bounds and touched on something sensitive. "I'm sorry, Nathalie. I shouldn't have asked."

"Your father loves you very much, Adrien," her fingers never stopped moving. "I haven't seen such love and dedication to both work and family. Not many can manage that. To achieve such a career, most would have to… lose touch with what family they have, if any. Not your father, though. He makes an effort to be there for you."

"Well, I think you might be giving him a little too much credit."

"He's not the first millionaire CEO I've worked for. But he is the first one to let a crowd of people he never met into his house, including a street Santa, so his son wouldn't have a lonely Christmas."

Adrien's eyes widened as he recalled the wonderful Christmas he celebrated with his friends only a couple days ago. True, Nathalie was the one who called them over but it was his father who allowed them to stay. After thinking his son was kidnapped, he could have easily felt justified in not letting any of them in and yet he had… for him. Adrien could see why his father relied so heavily on Nathalie's blunt nature. Her words seemed to bring to light what mattered most. Still, he could've sworn he had heard a stumble in her usually calm voice.

"Is that what happened? Did you… 'lose touch' with your family?"

She stopped typing. Her scrutinizing look locked on whatever she had been writing.

"Sorry!" backpedaled Adrien. "I just said I shouldn't have asked and I did anyway. That was wrong. I'll go to my room and leave you alone." The ashamed boy bolted for the stairs. His legs only stopped when his ears caught a whisper.

"If I wanted to be with them... I would." He turned to find Nathalie looking up at him from her desk. Her stare had softened. "I choose to be here." This threw Adrien for a loop. He was no stranger to the concept of a family member leaving to take care of work, but his father wanted to be near him. He was forced by his job to leave. Someone choosing work over family was… unthinkable. As if she could read his thoughts, Nathalie heaved her shoulders with a sigh and explained, "As one gets older, Adrien, one gathers regrets. One makes life decisions they wish they hadn't. Most of all, though, one can come to feel embarrassed by their job."

"Embarrassed?" Adrien couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You work for the biggest fashion company in France. You're Gabriel Agreste's personal assistant!"

"That is not what I set out to become." She stood and marched back towards the living room, "It doesn't matter. Your father asked me to watch you until he returned and that's what I must do." She held open the door and looked expectantly at Adrien. The boy slowly obeyed the unspoken order.

As he took his original seat before the champagne bottle, he considered the woman with newfound interest. There wasn't a day Nathalie wasn't by either his or his father's side. No woman worked harder and yet she was embarrassed by her work. Adrien didn't really know what he wanted to become. Modeling was more for his father and it didn't feel right to charge the public to protect them as Chat Noir. Still, whatever he became, he imagined his father would make his opinion very well known. He didn't want to disappoint him. And with that thought, Adrien believed he understood. Not entirely. Just enough to grasp the reason behind Nathalie's actions.

He grabbed the bottle and the flute glasses and handed her the one meant for his father. "If you really want to leave, Nathalie, Father won't stop you. New Year's is about making resolutions. Goals to make this year and your life better. And if that means working somewhere else, then… I'll miss you." Adrien didn't really know where he was going with this. The words seemed to be pouring out on their own at this point. Sounded right, though. "But if you're happy here, then I think that's all that matters and your family should respect that."

He held his face in a resolute determined fashion as Nathalie stared down at him. The moment was definitely awkward, however he needed to let her know the she had a choice in this. She wasn't by any means trapped. Finally, he could've sworn he spotted the faintest hint of smile. "Well, it seems I'll have to inform your father of his mistake."

Adrien blinked.

"His son is certainly not a kid."

A half-laugh burst from Adrien before pops and blasts of fireworks erupted in the distant sky, signaling the end of the old and the start of the new. He opened the bottle and filled each of their glasses. They both held them up in a toast. "My New Year's resolution is to not run away as much."

"As much?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Um, uh… You know what I mean."

They clinked glasses.

"Happy New Year's, Nathalie."

"Happy New Year's, Adrien."

* * *

Her boss carefully closed Adrien's bedroom door after having checked on his sleeping son and turned to his assistant, "I have another emergency meeting after lunch tomorrow. See that Adrien is taken care of."

"Of course, Mr. Agreste," she solemnly answered the already departing man. She watched him make his way towards his room to catch what little sleep he could before the sun rose. She took a deep breath, "Sir?"

"What is it, Nathalie?"

"If at all possible, could I have next week off?"

"Next week? Rather short notice, but I should be able to get someone from the office to cover. You've more than earned the days. Enjoy them." He left her without another word.

Nathalie attempted to settle her loudly beating heart as she drew out her phone. She swiped down her contacts until she reached the one she was looking for. If she calculated the time difference correctly, they should be waking up soon. She pressed call and held the device to her ear. The automated ringing noise was her entire world as her mind shuffled through the multiple ways this could go, the hundreds of questions she would be bombarded with, the infinite choices on how to even start. Then she heard a voice she hadn't heard in years.

"Hello?"

And the doubts left her. "...Hi, mom."

END

 _A Happy New Year's to you all, may you hold to your resolutions no matter how small. PS - I need to seriously focus on a script for Nickelodeon so gonna be radio silent for January. Sorry!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I said it would only be a one-shot but then you guys started following and favoriting and commenting and PRIVATE MESSAGING!_

 _Fine._

 _You wanted it. Here it is. Prepare your tear ducts._

 _NOTE: This continuation wasn't commissioned by Project ML. Only the first chapter was. I am continuing this because… the story means something to me._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 2  
_ By: I Write Big

On-time.

No matter how many times Nathalie refreshed the airline app, it kept saying her flight was on-time. It wasn't wrong, as far as she knew. It just meant that, with every passing minute, the bus to the airport got closer to where she waited and there still was no excuse to not go home. She had hoped that congestion of so many flying after New Year's would delay or even cancel her flight. Or maybe the runway was slicked over with dangerous ice. Something that would allow her to shrug and give up! Anything!

She refreshed the app again. On-time.

According to the schedule on the bus stop sign next to her, Nathalie had only minutes to make up her mind. Her bag was packed, her apartment was locked and her e-ticket was stored in her phone, but lingering doubts remained. They squirmed and frothed under her calm, unemotive exterior.

"Nathalie?"

So deep into her thoughts had she dove, that Nathalie hadn't noticed the limo pull up on the corner. His school bag slung over his shoulder, the young boy who also happened to be her boss' son Adrien stepped out and approached her slowly. His shock was easy for Nathalie to read. While she had made her career around seeing the emotions others try to hide, Nathalie always found Adrien expressed himself openly. The boy could be exhausting but his youthful vigor had a way of amusing her and over the years that amusement slowly grew to care.

"When I didn't see you this morning at breakfast I…" he stared down at her bag with a lost look. "I didn't know it was today."

Nathalie inwardly sighed. She didn't expect Mr. Agreste to inform his son of the day of her departure. In fact, she was sure the man didn't know she was leaving the country. He had simply given her the week off and told Nathalie when he expected her to resume her station. Simple as that. Only Adrien knew what was truly happening.

"My apologies, Adrien. I planned to stop by the mansion and say goodbye," she lied with her signature straight face, "However, there was a change in my flight's schedule and I had to run."

The boy seemed to believe her and politely hid his disappointment behind a smile. It needed work. Nathalie could plainly see the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth and the wrinkle next to his left eye which only showed when he lied. "I guess this is it. You're really gonna see your family. How long has it been?"

She gave him points for redirecting the conversation in such a smooth manner to a question she was uncomfortable with. He had the makings of a businessman in him. There was actual pride for him that she might have shown if not for that question. "I'd rather not talk about them, Adrien."

"Sorry, I just… I…" he stumbled over his words in search. Adrien was always quick to apologize, Nathalie noted. Too quick. There are those who would take advantage of such a weakness. "I know I shouldn't pry. They're your family, but you've said _nothing_ about them and you're never afraid to say _anything_! Even to Father!" A smile almost broke out on her face at that. _Almost._ Spouting the obvious was what she was paid for. Mr. Agreste was just the sort of man who appreciated such candor. Before she could chide Adrien on his words, the boy stepped forward, a touch too close, and spoke earnestly, "Nathalie, I'm scared for you. Please, tell me, are you going to be safe?"

With tact, she put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder and carefully pushed him back to a professional distance, "I'll be fine, Adrien. My family and I have not… talked in some time. That's all. It'll be strange getting to know each other again." Another perfectly honest, yet oddly vague half-truth. Those took great practice.

The bus pulled up in front of them, much to Nathalie's relief. She gave the boy a nod, "Goodbye, Adrien. Behave yourself while I am gone. I'm keeping to my resolution and I therefore assume you will keep to yours. No more running away."

"As much," he reminded.

This time she actually did smile.

She boarded, taking the first window seat, her bag tucked in an overhead basket. Adrien waved to her as the bus got going. She found herself waving back. Just as the bus turned the corner, she saw Adrien give a boyish thumbs up and then he was gone. Nathalie was tempted to give a thumbs up to the window. Instead, she let her arm drop and leaned her head against the glass. The doubts were still there and they'd most likely never leave until she saw her family. Now, though, the doubts were slightly eased. More manageable. Less worrisome. She might even be able to relax on the plane.

"He's a cute kid. Real sweet of him to come see his mother off like that." One of Nathalie's perfectly straight eyebrows quirked at the friendly bus driver who assumed too much. She _did not_ look old enough to be mistaken for Adrien's mother! ...Oh God, did she?

 _Bzzt._

Nathalie fished out her phone, praying it was a delay notification. However, it was a text from Adrien. Four words. One last question he either forgot or was too frightened to ask.

' _Are you coming back?'_

New Year's replayed in her mind. When her mask had cracked an ever so tiny amount that she had let slip to Adrien that she never wanted to be a personal assistant, she had felt humiliated. Normally, such unprofessional behavior would've put her employment into jeopardy. Nathalie was grateful that it was Adrien who witnessed her breakdown. He had then put the idea into her head that she should take this trip to reconnect with her family and insinuated that she pursue what she really wanted. He claimed he would be supportive even if that entailed leaving the Agrestes forever. That begged the question then…

Could she?

Was it too late?

Is she coming back?

She locked the phone, leaving the message unanswered.

"You know, you chose a good day to travel," the driver continued. "You're the only one I've driven in today. Everybody's already flown home from the Holidays so it's practically clear skies. I wouldn't be surprised if your plane is empty. Where you flying to, by the way?"

Nathalie refreshed her app. On-time.

"...Romania."

* * *

"Yo, dude, you okay?" Nino's hand waved in front of him, blocking the screen. Not wanting to worry his friend more, Adrien gave him one of his trademark smiles.

"Sorry, Nino, I was thinking about something. Don't worry about it." Adrien rubbed the surprising sore pop in the back of his neck.

"Must be serious. Was it a super important phone call or something? You were staring non-stop at your phone the whole day. You're totally lucky Miss Bustier didn't catch you."

 _Bzzt._

The phone practically flew out of Adrien's fumbling hands. Finally getting a firm grip on the device, he eagerly checked the new text. To his disappointment it was only an introductory message from the new temporary assistant, sending him her contact info and such. Adrien didn't bother to read her name and pressed his head to the desk. He told himself again to relax. This was Nathalie's decision. Maybe she got on the plane before the text was delivered. She'll probably see it tonight and answer him then.

Maybe.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Whatever she chose, wherever she went, as long she's happy, that's all that matters. Those were the words he used and he would stand by them. He peeked out of the classroom window. A distant white plane was making its way across the blue sky. He didn't have any way of knowing if it was her plane or not. Still, he imagined it was and positioned his hand so, to him, it looked like he was grasping the bottom of the aircraft's body. He then guided the plane towards the horizon and let it go like he would a paper plane, sending it off to the great unknown.

"Oookay." Adrien sat up straight and blushed at Nino who had been there the whole time. "I have no clue what you're doing, dude, but can you swat at invisible bees outside? Let's go!" Nino raced out to freedom.

Adrien packed his school bag and slung it over his shoulder. Just as he was walking out the door, he looked back out the window. The plane had vanished. He checked his phone one last time. No new messages.

It was only a week, he told himself.

What could happen in a week?

END

" _There is nothing to writing. Just sit in front of your typewriter and bleed."_

 _\- Ernest Hemingway_


	3. Chapter 3

" _Family is where our nation finds hope, where wings take dream."_

 _\- George W. Bush, 43rd President of the United States of America (Elected twice)_

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution**  
 _Part 3  
_ By: I Write Big

Nathalie dug through her bag, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

While it did get cold in the winter back in Paris, she had forgotten how absolutely _frigid_ it became in Bucharest. As soon as she stepped off the plane, she knew the fashionable light jacket she wore was useless. The night air nipped at her relentlessly. Thick fur coats wrapped the travelers around her, making them appear nearly three times bigger than they really were. Some were rather extravagant and caught Nathalie's trained eye. She'd have to bring up the idea of a winter line to Mr. Agreste. Nathalie gripped something made of cotton and she pulled out the festive scarf she received from Adrien at the Christmas party. It was a gaudy thing with ridiculous reindeer prancing across an ugly green treeline. With a grimace, she threw it around her exposed neck.

"That is not nearly enough, Natalia."

Nathalie's heart nearly stopped. A shadow eclipsed her crouched body and something heavy plopped itself on her shoulders. The wildly grinning man who quickly buttoned up the warm fur coat she now wore gave her a quick kiss on each cheek and hugged her tightly. Nathalie's arms hung limply at her side as her mind quickly put a name to the now grown face.

"Dumitru? Is that you?"

"Haha! You don't remember your own brother?" the man boomed and pointed to the pathetic stubble on his chin, "The beard threw you off, huh? I hardly recognized you too with that color in your hair. Is that how you fashion designers dress now?"

Nathalie found herself staring at the man. He was nearly twice as tall as she remembered, reaching nearly a whole head higher than her. Almost every detail of the boy she was raised with was completely different. The only thing she recognized was the familiar glint in his ever present smile. Her instincts kicked in and she resumed her default unemotional look, "I didn't know you were picking me up."

"I stayed a little longer so Mom wouldn't have to drive into the city." A twitch of his nose. The same tell from when he was twelve. Seems there were some parts of her brother that hadn't changed. "I'm only here for a couple more days. That's as long as Elena can survive with the kids without me. Haha!" Again his booming laugh filled the airport, much to Nathalie's embarrassment. His unnecessarily loud sense of humor hadn't changed either. Maintaining her business professional straight face, she picked up her bag and headed for the exit. Dumitru was close behind.

To Nathalie's further surprise, Dumitru led her to the old family truck their parents had driven them in since the two were children. The paint was rusted over and and the right headlight was still busted from when Dumitru was in his engineer phase. With Dumitru at the wheel, it was eerily similar to having the Gorilla driving her around. Unlike the Gorilla, Dumitru was talking endlessly. Nathalie adopted her tried and true method of nodding slightly and ignoring the unimportant details. It worked for Mr. Agreste. Instead, Nathalie was drawn to the passing city.

Like most of Europe the architecture was a mix of preserved classic with the occasional modern. Sparse street lights gave many buildings an almost angelic presence. There was a sore lack of the mysterious magic that only Paris managed to capture. Rather, Bucharest embodied a history of a people and a pride in a country that had struggled to stay relevant in an ever changing world.

"It is so nice to have you back, Natalia." The name momentarily grabbed her attention. She had been too shocked by his presence to notice when he used that name the first time. It had been years since anyone had called her that. When she first moved to Paris, a potential boss had simply mispronounced her name during an interview. They had struck Nathalie as the kind of boss who would not hire her if she corrected them, so she didn't and the name stuck. She got used to Nathalie. To hear her real name was… odd. "We wish you could've come sooner. You missed the fireworks and the Saint Vasile caroling. It was well below freezing, a great sign for a wonderful year. I have pictures, look." He shoved his phone into her hands. Nathalie skimmed through the album. Most of the people were strangers, but from how close they clung to Dumitru, Nathalie assumed they must have been additions to the family she never met. She found a picture of him with a rather pretty woman: Elena.

Elena had changed as well. Gone were the poorly tied braids from high school. Now, her red hair fell majestically over her shoulder. The next photo showed Dumitru and Elena laying in bed together and being rudely woken by three energetic children. The image was taken when the children were in the middle of thwacking the sleeping adults with sticks covered with multi-colored flowers.

"Sorcova."

"Yes, the only day of the year when the children are allowed to spank the parents."

Nathalie knew she shouldn't laugh. If she did, Dumitru would go on a joke tirade that wouldn't stop until she slapped him or he fell asleep, whichever came second. She swallowed the giggles that threatened to bubble over. It was such a ridiculous tradition. The first day of the new year, children would wish good health and luck to adults by _hitting them with_ _wood!_ Whoever came up with that one was a true genius. Perhaps she should bring the tradition to Paris; it might even help with the Akuma problem.

"Oh, so you smile for pictures of my torture but you don't smile when you see me for the first time in over ten years?" Dumitru playfully nudged her.

Her hand shot up to her face and covered her lips. She felt the upward tug of the corners of her mouth and tried to force them back down.

"Natalia, what are you doing?"

She froze. She had been hiding her emotions, like she had mastered. Keeping a cold, straight to the point exterior was the only way she earned any respect in the working world. Never had she allowed that mask to drop around anyone… except Adrien. The boy had proven himself kind enough not to turn her opinions against her. Even so, that trust only ever earned him the occasional smile.

She lowered her arm and tried to smirk for the first time in what felt like forever. "Felt like I was going to sneeze."

"I don't know what that face is," Dumitru leaned away from her in fear, "but it is very disturbing."

The smirk and her face snapped back to indifference. Nathalie supposed she was a touch rusty. A couple hours in front of a mirror would be necessary to get the hang of actually responding with interest. She returned to the phone and swiped through more pictures of Dumitru celebrating with these strangers. While she did feel some remorse for missing what looked to be a fun time, she was grateful she had avoided introducing herself to so many people she knew nothing about. The final picture was a grand group photo with everyone huddled side by side. Dumitru and his family were together near the edge.

At the center… was mom.

The doubts creeped back in. Writhing and frothing under her skin. On the first day of the year, before the sun had even risen, when Nathalie had heard her voice over the phone there were no doubts. She didn't hesitate. Nathalie had in so few words asked to come over and visit. When she had finished talking... her mom had said nothing. In that void the doubts had swarmed, finding fertile nesting ground. Then, out of the darkness, her mom agreed and that was the end of their conversation. There was no joy. No celebration of hearing from her daughter. Only the barest of acknowledgement.

"Why didn't she come and get me herself?"

"Mom is getting old. Coming into the city gets harder each time." A twitch of his nose. A lie.

Uncomfortable quiet settled between them. The truck came to a stoplight. Ahead of them was the last line of buildings before they reached the city limits. Just beyond waited home.

"You must be hungry. We can stop. You remember Greta's? It's still open! I'll buy you some Mici." She heard his sympathy. This was his way of giving her more time to mentally prepare. The Natalia from over ten years ago would've needed that time. The Nathalie of today only wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Nathalie reached into her coat and gripped the ugly scarf tightly, "We can eat at home. Let's not make mom wait."

The light turned green and they drove out of the city.

* * *

Adrien returned his dinner plate to the kitchen and started washing it. Usually, he would leave the dish in the sink for the maid to clean in the morning but he desperately needed something to occupy his mind. The temporary assistant his father had hired did her job well. She kept him on schedule and was more than happy to talk with him. However, he could tell from her attitude that this was more about pleasing her boss than anything else. There was eager, then there was sucking up. What better way to suck up to Gabriel Agreste than through his son?

After his lessons had been finished, Adrien dismissed the assistant early and ate dinner alone. His phone was an ever present weight against his leg throughout the day.

' _Are you coming back?'_

Still no response.

He dried and stacked the plate in the cupboard before leaning against the counter. He had finished his studies between his fencing class and piano practice. The sun was down, which officially meant his curfew was in effect and any outdoor excursions would result in a Gorilla hunt. Video games didn't sound fun right now.

"Oh man, today was so boring," Plagg whined from atop his head. They peered out the window above the sink. The twinkling lights of Paris enticed them. "I'm up for a run if you got some camembert." A Chat Noir adventure sounded like just what he needed, but instead Adrien sighed and went upstairs.

Nathalie was keeping her resolution, so he had to keep his as well. No running away. He planned to slip out if there was an Akuma attack, other than that he would make do with being boring Adrien. He passed by the door to his father's office. Light illuminated the frame and the rapid typing of a keyboard could be heard through the wood. There was always the option to step inside. After dinner, father was sometimes open to talk while he worked. Adrien considered knocking but kept walking.

He collapsed on his bed and stared at the ceiling until Plagg flew into his vision. "Ugh, I don't get you humans and your weird obsession with resolutions. Why would you ever choose to give up something you like?" Adrien chuckled and gave the kwami a small wedge of cheese he nabbed from the fridge.

"That's not what resolutions are about, Plagg. They're supposed to be about committing to something tough that you know will make your life better." He found himself staring at the unanswered text again. "Nathalie didn't give up anything. She's doing something brave."

Plagg floated down and looked at the phone screen. "Geez, Adrien, it feels like you're having a tougher time with Nathalie visiting her family than Nathalie."

Adrien groaned and flipped over. Not being able to distract himself by doing awesome leaps as a superhero was going to drive him crazy. With barely a look at his phone, he opened his contacts, scrolled down to Nino and hit call. A couple rings later, the line picked up.

"A-A-Adrien?" a nervous voice that certainly wasn't Nino's answered.

He blinked and looked at his phone. The name 'Marinette' shined brightly across the top of the screen. "Oh! Sorry, Marinette, I was trying to call Nino and your name is right above his. I must've misdialed."

"Right!... That makes sense." For some reason he heard disappointment from her. Maybe Marinette was also dealing with a problem and needed someone to talk to, someone like him.

"But I can call him later, how're you doing?"

"Me?! I'm—I, hah, smooth! Super smooth here! Y'up, nothing but smooth... You?"

Adrien frowned. Nathalie taught him about this. Misdirection, she called it. Obviously, Marinette wasn't comfortable talking about what was wrong. He'd need to start for her. "I wish I could say the same. Nathalie took a week off starting today. Flew out of Paris to I don't know where. You probably have no clue who I'm talking about."

"She's, uh, she's your dad's secretary, right? The-the one with the highlight?" To Adrien's relief Marinette sounded calmer, more comfortable. He felt proud that he could get his normally stuttery friend to speak full sentences. Perhaps her social anxiety had to do with talking with people in person. She probably had a much easier time on the phone. "Actually, when I first saw the two of you together, I kind of thought she was your mom."

"My what?" a very non-model-like snort escaped his nose. "She's not my—we don't even look alike."

He heard Marinette stumble over her answer. "Stepmom maybe? She was always with you, walked you from the car to school, straightened your shirt, fixed your hair, little things like that, I don't know. It was before I got to know you better." Adrien stopped listening. Adrien couldn't listen. Adrien could only think about the 'little things' Nathalie always did. She always left a freshly sliced apple with his breakfast. She took the liberty of calling his friends over for Christmas. When she had to deliver news of father canceling yet another family event, she tried to spin it in a good light. She never succeeded, but she always tried.

"How exactly is her going bad? I mean, I know your dad's busy but it's only a week. She's just on vacation."

Adrien's throat suddenly felt dry. "If that's all she was doing, I wouldn't be worried." Nathalie was chasing a dream. Adrien didn't know what that dream was, but there was the chance Nathalie's dream would take her away forever… and he had pushed her towards that dream.

After losing his mother last year.

After slowly losing his father this year.

He didn't know if he could lose someone else.

"...Adrien, are you oka—"

"I gotta go." He hanged up and checked his texts.

' _Are you coming back?'_

No response.

END

 _Write what you know, they said! It's okay if you start crying, they said! It's healthy, they said!_


	4. Chapter 4

" _No job is more rewarding, more fulfilling and more thankless than being a parent."_

 _-Every Mother Ever_

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 4  
_ By: I Write Big

The Christmas wreath was still on the door. That was the fourth thing Nathalie noticed about her old home.

The first was the new trail of lights that marked the gravelly driveway leading towards the two-story wooden cottage. A touch of technology in a patch of land that hadn't been altered for generations. Bucharest was still distantly visible, the tips of the tallest buildings cresting over the treeline but they had driven past the last streetlight several kilometers ago. Nathalie wondered how her parents managed to navigate the inky blackness without them when they were children. Dumitru swung the truck around the back of the cottage and cut the engine.

"Hurry, before we freeze," he took Nathalie's bag and shuffled out.

Tightening the ugly green scarf knotted around her neck, Nathalie pushed against the strong winter winds and followed Dumitru to the front. The second thing she noticed was some sort of structure out by the road. She must've missed it when they drove past. She didn't remember her family having a shack in their front yard ten years ago. With the dim driveway lights, she could make out the barest outline of a sign next to the shack but not the message written. Thinking nothing more of it, she pressed on and arrived at the door.

"By the way, I can't believe I forgot to say this earlier," Dumitru said as he fished the key out of a flower pot, "Welcome home, Natalia."

His genuine love was the third thing she noticed.

Inside, warmth assaulted the pair and Nathalie nearly suffocated under her many layers. She quickly removed both of her coats as Dumitru laughed off the surprising temperature change. "Mom must've started the fire for us. How nice. Mom, guess who's here!"

Nathalie's back straightened, her hand instinctively gripped the tasseled end of her ugly scarf. Her eyes flew between the multiple doorways around them. She saw movement from the kitchen, but it was only the orange flicker of the fireplace. Seconds ticked by in horrid silence and Nathalie's doubts fought for control.

"Mom?" Dumitru called again.

A creak of wood. Nathalie looked to the ceiling. If her memory served her well, directly above them was one room in particular.

"She's in her bedroom."

Dumitru followed her gaze just as another wooden creak sounded from the ceiling. "Oh! She probably couldn't hear me. I'll get her." He bounded up the staircase. Nathalie released a deeply held breath. Beneath her calm composure were nerves threatening to wreak havoc. Taking her bag, she moved to the kitchen and guzzled a glass of water. The hardest part would be seeing her. The moment she saw her face, Nathalie would know if there was a chance. She had spent the flight preparing for the various greetings she'd get. False kindness, indifference, judgement. Each were in some way warranted and justified. She could manage, she had survived worse, and it would only be a second.

It would be quick like when she had ripped a band-aid off of Adrien's knee. Before he was a model in Mr. Agreste's company, the boy had been quite the little adventurer. When he was first entrusted into Nathalie's care, Adrien was the pinnacle of rambunctiousness with bruises and scrapes. His mother always encouraged him to play outside. Unfortunately, as some children come to believe, young Adrien was convinced that if he removed any of his band-aids, his blood would gush out. Nathalie put a stop to that ridiculousness with a quick tug. Instead of screaming in pain or crying, the boy was amazed and claimed Nathalie had healed him with her magical powers like in his 'anime,' whatever that was.

"Natalia..."

Nathalie woke and put her smile away. She looked to the door, bracing for the truth but only saw Dumitru.

"Mom says she is not feeling well." There were no tells. He was being honest and was just as confused as her.

"...Does she have a fever?"

"I don't know. She wouldn't open the door," a twitch of the nose with a slight bite to his lip. She knew he had held back a detail. Dumitru stepped past her, "Mom also says she cooked for us."

Near the fireplace, on a small varnished table sat two bowls of what looked like stew. Nathalie's stomach growled at the sight, the scent of burning timber must've overpowered the aroma. As hungry as she was, the lack of mom's appearance troubled Nathalie. It was the one scenario she hadn't prepared for. Was this purely bad timing? Locking herself in her room wasn't necessary and pointed to some sort of motive.

"They're leftovers from New Year's but still taste great," Dumitru pressed a bowl under Nathalie's nose and suddenly nothing mattered.

This wasn't stew. This was piftie! She shoveled several spoonfuls and nearly choked on the delicious gelatin. She ignored her brother's warnings of nearly staining her scarf and savored the taste. If the Agrestes could see what she was eating, they'd most likely gag. Piftie had the appearance of a meaty soup that had been left to cool too long. That was the point of the meal, though. Piftie was a chewy jello made from pork broth with the cooked pork trapped inside like nuggets of meaty goodness. The French could keep their buttery croissants, delectable cheeses, and heavenly wines. Piftie was a meal for the Holidays.

And it was Nathalie's... favorite...

She stopped chewing and looked down into her dish. Mom's actions didn't make sense. Her daughter comes home after 10 years and her reaction is to lock herself away without a word, warm up the house with a fire, and leave out a bowl of her children's favorite meal. She considered whether this was an indirect peace offering.

"So, how many fashion lines have you got under your belt?"

Nathalie swallowed the last bite. This was what she had been waiting for. She'd imagined mom would be here as well, but this could serve as practice. The simple story she had crafted played in her head, the finer details would have to be brushed aside and vague enough to be unverifiable.

"The last I saw you, you said you'd have at least fifteen before you came back."

For once her inner emotions matched her face. She was too stunned to react. The memory of that day simply took over, "...You remember that?"

"How could I forget the last time I saw my little sister?" He took her empty bowl and scrubbed their dishes in the sink, "You were so excited to be getting on that plane. Couldn't get away fast enough. You were ready to change the world with your clothes." Nostalgia creeped in. Nathalie recalled her youthful drive to chase her dreams, to show everyone what one woman could do. Then everything went wrong. Then that dream became almost impossible.

She slipped further and the doubts took hold. "I work… for Gabriel Agreste," she muttered.

"Gabriel? Like the angel?"

Nathalie stood up straight and cleared her throat. Names were not part of the story she had created. Names could be searched. She had already botched this. "Y-Yes, he's the owner of the Gabriel Fashion Company. The largest fashion company in Paris." Misdirection. She needed a misdirection, "And I don't have any fashion lines under my belt. They don't just hand those out because you work there. That's not how fashion works."

"HAHA!" Dumitru's guffaws boomed through the cottage. "You're telling me how fashion works, hahah, while wearing that awful hairy snake!"

Her arms wrapped the ugly green scarf protectively as a genuine blush spread across her cheeks. Her hands covered her face to hide the red. This level of emotion was more than she was accustomed to. She usually could hold it down, keep it all in, but Dumitru's endless laughter somehow brought them to the surface. Finally, she did something she hadn't done for a decade: she raised her voice.

"Shut up! This was a gift!"

Dumitru stared down at her, wide-eyed, and she could feel why. Her disused facial muscles were spasming somewhere between showing rage and amusement. And it didn't help that her blush only deepened from embarrassment. Then there was a touch, Dumitru's gentle palm against her cheek. The stress fled and the doubts weakened their grip. This was her brother's ritual to ease others. The entire family had their ways.

Dumitru stroked cheeks.

Dad patted heads.

Mom hummed songs into ears.

And Nathalie… hadn't been allowed to do hers since she left. There wasn't anyone in Paris with whom she'd felt close enough. Nathalie's hand traced up Dumitru's arm and squeezed his wrist until she could sense his pulse under her fingers. Heartbeats always calmed her as much as her touch seemed to calm others.

"This is home, Natalia. No one is here to judge you." Doubts pressed at the gates at his words but the walls held.

Soon, Nathalie's composure returned and she let him go, "Does that work on Elena?"

"I'm a married man and a father," he shrugged. "Doesn't mean I know how women work, but I can see when they need love. Sometimes."

They finished cleaning their bowls and Nathalie turned down Dumitru's offer of peppermint schnapps with the excuse of jetlag. He instead led her to the guest room, the first door at the top of the stairs. The bed was made, the curtains were drawn and the shelves were empty. Despite the lack of decoration, Nathalie recognized her old bedroom. She supposed it was natural they would make hers into the guest room. The space would serve no other purpose other than to collect dust without an occupant. The mattress was stiffer then she recalled and pushed against the wrong corner. Maybe it was replaced. It would do.

She removed her scarf and carefully folded the wool. It wasn't as terrible as Dumitru made it sound. In the moonlight, the green resembled the sparkling green eyes belonging to the boy who had sent her on this journey. The boy who was still waiting for an answer. To be honest, her plan was to base her answer on the meeting with mom. It was an excuse, sure, but she needed some way to organize her thoughts. Perhaps, there was another option.

The stiff new mattress wasn't only pressed against the wrong wall. It was the wall shared between her room and mom's. Nathalie crawled across the bed and rapped her knuckles against the hard surface.

 _Tap-tappity-taptap._

It was a rhythm. A secret knock between mother and daughter from a lifetime ago that held infinite meanings. The lack of response would say even more. Time passed at the slowest pace and to Nathalie it was as if morning was about to break. There was the possibility that this _sickness_ was hindering mom, putting her into a deep sleep. Or maybe this was Nathalie's way out, her excuse. Nathalie opened her messages to Adrien, typed out 'yes' and hit sen—

 _Taptap-tappity-tap._

Her hands trembled and the phone fell to the quilt. In that knock she heard hope. In her heart she felt fear.

* * *

Adrien wasn't even sure if he had slept. He had laid half-awake in his day clothes with his phone as a pillow, slipping in and out of consciousness until the sun had risen. He could've sworn that bubble with the three blinking dots that meant someone was writing something back appeared on his screen around one in the morning, but no message came. It must've been his mind playing tricks. The new assistant's comments on his disheveled look were assuaged with a promise to change before school.

Miserable, that's the word he would use to describe his morning. And his phone was the source. Leaving the device at home would only earn him a lecture about never leaving the house without a means of communication, so it weighed in his pocket as the limo drove towards school. Sitting still was impossible, he would fidget every few blocks, never truly feeling comfortable. He needed to get his mind off of Nathalie and her trip and her unanswered message and her possibly never returning and her—

"We'll pick you up for piano practice after school," the new assistant's voice snapped Adrien out of his trance and he scooted out of the limo. Maybe some classes would keep him occupied. If it worked, he might even stay in for a study hall session or something.

As he walked through the front double doors, he overheard the nervous stutter of the girl he had spoken to only hours ago. She was talking with Alya in the corner about a topic that was clearly making Marinette uncomfortable. Realization washed over Adrien and he nearly slapped himself. He had called Marinette in the middle of the night and then rudely hanged up halfway through their conversation. That could not stand.

"Morning, girls!" he made sure to stretch his smile that extra millimeter like his photographer had trained him. Supposedly, it showed off his dimples. Immediately, Marinette crumpled into her usual stutters and Adrien reeled it back. He had forgotten how bad she was with face to face. "Right, uh, Marinette, I'm sorry about cutting our talk short last night. I was—"

"Hold up!" Alya grabbed her friend's arms and slightly pushed her to the side. "You two? Marinette and Adrien? Talked? _To each other?!_ "

"Uh, yeah, it was an accidental phone call," he quickly explained and went back to Marinette. He wanted to put a comforting hand on her shoulder but Nathalie had taught him to 'read the room' when apologizing. He had already seen that his camera-smile was too much. Physical contact would only make things worse. Rather, he tried to speak as warmly as he could to make her less nervous, "But, Marinette, that's what I wanted to apologize about. You were clearly bothered by something last night and I couldn't see past my own problems to help you with yours. I hope you can forgive me."

The choice appeared to work as Marinette relaxed and finally looked him in the eye, "O-o-of course."

"Really? That's great!" He let out a sigh of relief. Having friends was still a novel experience to Adrien. That they could let mistakes go and move on was probably what amazed him most. "Then can I help?"

"...Huh?"

"The thing that was bothering you last night, is there any way I can help?" he pressed.

"My...I, um, I d-d-don't— I mean…" Marinette dissolved back into stutters, her attention rapidly switching between the floor, the sky, the wall, and her fumbling fingers. It was now obvious to Adrien that he had overstepped his bounds again. Just like he did with Nathalie…

"Sorry, it's none of my business. Forget I asked." He adjusted his school bag strap and headed for the second floor, "I'll see you in class." Adrien mentally berated himself for his actions. Pushing people like that was not how he was taught to behave. 'People have their personal lives and they should be respected,' that's what Nathalie always sa—

"C-CALL ME!"

The shout was so loud and sudden that Adrien spun around on the spot. He saw Marinette standing where he left her, fists clenched at her side, eyes scrunched shut. Around her, Alya and several other students watched dumbfounded at her outburst. The meaning of her words then slowly made sense to Adrien. Last night, Marinette had managed to openly talk with him but only because it was over the phone. She wanted to talk to Adrien about her problems. That extra layer of privacy and anonymity was what gave her the strength to try. Adrien was more than willing to work with that. Anything for a friend.

"Okay, yeah, calling might be better."

She nodded.

"Tonight okay?"

She nodded, more vigorously.

END

 _So, you've met mom._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hope you all are enjoying the new cover art. Sure, it only took me five minutes to draw, but it's so minimalistically brilliant, I'm convinced that I could sell it to a museum for a fortune!_

 _To the reader who asked, nope, I am not Romanian. I'm just a good liar._

 _Also, 'Bunica' is Romanian for Grandma and 'mici' is a tasty roll of various meats that's a popular street food in Romania. Think of it as a hotdog._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 5  
_ By: I Write Big

"But this is black," pointed out Natalia. She held the silk ribbon against the pure white trail of the wedding dress for Elena to see. The dress itself wasn't perfectly white, like when it was first presented to Natalia. She had added an intricate red flower design that made the entire outfit feel like a heavenly garden. However, there was no room for black. They contrasted to a point that the foreign fabric resembled a scar on the otherwise perfect gown.

The young woman the dress was meant for nervously tugged at her messy red braids, "Does that mean you can't do it?"

'She shouldn't' was the answer Natalia wanted to say. This close to the ceremony, after over a year of planning, throwing such clash into the color scheme would ruin everything. The sadness in her future sister-in-law's face gave her pause and she relented, "...Perhaps, around the wrist?"

Elena shook her head, "It has to be _in_ the dress. Mama said it was tradition. She wore this in her wedding dress and so did Bunica. Please!" She took Natalia's hands, "You're the best seamstress in Bucharest! I wouldn't trust anyone else!"

The praise helped Natalia keep her eyes from rolling. Yet _another_ motherly tradition. Her own mom had already restricted so much in terms of decoration, entertainment and food choice. Natalia had hoped that she would at least have some freedom with the dress. If this horrible piece of black was an order from on high, then she could do nothing except salute and obey. She inspected the gown again for a spot. The torso might be busy enough to hide it, if only the ribbon wasn't so dark. The skirt had the opposite problem. It was empty. Any addition would instantly be noticable. The waist grabbed her attention. She wrapped the ribbon where the torso and the skirt met, but the strip was too short to reach the back. Such a stark incomplete pattern was inexcusable.

Natalia grumbled as she stomped around the mannequin. There was nowhere this ribbon could go where it wouldn't be gawked at by both families. It would always be seen!

 _Seen…_

"Your mother said it must be in the dress, yes?" Natalia asked with a smirk.

Elena nodded, "She did."

Natalia snatched her seam ripper and got to work. Within minutes the ribbon was sewn into the hem lining of the skirt. The nuisance's new home was a place that absolutely no one could see nor possibly know about but it was indeed _in_ _the dress_ as requested.

The bride-to-be blinked at the part of the skirt that hid the problem. A snicker escaped her rosy lips. That good-natured humor that rivaled Dumitru's eased the tension as she laughed at Natalia's solution. "I don't think mama will approve."

"It's not her wedding," Natalia shrugged with pride.

Elena's arms wrapped around her, "Thank you, Natalia. I knew I could count on you." The embrace was gentle, comforting and filled with so much love. Under that love the months of preparation could be felt in those weary arms and Natalia wanted to do everything in her power to help bear that weight for Elena.

"Isn't this nice?"

That voice was… Natalia's… but she hadn't spoken those words. They came from the woman she held. She pulled away to find not Elena but a girl, a short girl who looked no older than 17 with dark hair reaching past her shoulders and cerulean eyes sparkling with wistful tears. The gasp hitched in her throat as Natalia… no… the child was Natalia. She was Nathalie.

"Being surrounded by people who love you and only want the very best for you…" Natalia reached towards Nathalie. Unbridled emotions poured from the child.

Joy…

Care…

Understanding…

"Don't you miss this?"

"No," she plainly said.

Natalia's fingers stopped short of Nathalie's cheek. The passions vanished and all that remained were the tears. Guilt flashed across Nathalie's soul. She wished she could've taken it back, that there was another word that would've made the world whole again. The child spoke first, "...You know, you've gotten so good at lying… I don't know even know if it that was truth."

Nathalie didn't either. The difference between sentimental tears and sorrowful tears is subtle, almost imperceivable. Yet, somehow, Nathalie saw the shift on the child and it broke her heart.

"What happened to you?"

Nathalie woke in the same clothes she had worn on the plane. Her head was pounding and her entire body swayed at the slightest movement. God, she hated jetlag. Even though she was only one hour ahead, the effect left her disorientated. Thankfully Mr. Agreste's workload kept him mostly in Paris, especially after the incident with Mrs. Agreste. As Nathalie passed the mirror, she spotted long dried rivers of eyeliner bleeding down her cheeks. The doubts had done a number on her in her sleep. She could still feel the child's hurt. Maybe she should've taken Dumitru up on that peppermint schnapps. Opening her travel case of wet-naps, she wiped herself clean, donned the green scarf and went downstairs.

She was surprised how quiet the cottage was after such a windy night. The crackling fire had crumbled to grey ashes and a pleasant chill had filled the halls. A creak of wood from above told her that mom was still locked in her room. There was a brief consideration of going to her door and knocking… but after that dream, she needed time to clear her head. She wandered around the cottage, taking in the the tiny details that hadn't changed in her 10 year absence. Much was the same, nothing had been replaced, only added to. Photos of the strangers she'd seen on Dumitru's phone lined the shelves and mantels. It didn't go unnoticed by Nathalie that there wasn't a single picture of herself anywhere. It didn't surprise her either. Around the old black and white photos hanged crayon drawings, birthday cards crudely signed to Bunica. The poor grammar and sloppy handwriting made her realize something.

Nathalie was an aunt... An aunt to three children she had never met. Perhaps she was old enough to be mistaken for Adrien's mom. God help her! Her musings were cut short by a faint thunk. Out the window was Dumitru chopping wood by the shack she had seen the night before. Throwing the heavy fur coat on over her scarf, she stepped outside. The midday sun nearly blinded Nathalie, to her surprise.

"Ah, she awakens. Thought you were going to sleep until dinner, Natalia."

The name gave her pause again, but she pushed it away, "What are you doing?"

"This is the new family business." He cut a length of twine from a spool and tied a bundle of split logs together. He then tossed the bundle on top of a large stack of bundles that filled the shack. "Well… it's really mom's business and not that new. She's been selling firewood since dad left," he corrected himself and pointed to the sign. The Romanian phrase for firewood, 'lemne de foc', was carved into its face with the pricetag of 15 lei per bundle.

The sight added more to Nathalie's headache. "Dumitru, I just realized that I forgot to exchange my euros. Can you drive me to a bank today?"

"Of course!" her brother embedded his ax into the stump and happily started towards the truck, "Let's go!"

Nathalie looked back and forth between him and the abandoned logs, "I-I didn't mean now! What about the, uh… wood shop?"

"If people want to buy, they can leave lei in the box," he called back. It was only then that Nathalie noticed the wooden coin box at the foot of the sign. Through the little slot in the top shined several bills already. Nathalie couldn't believe her brother's poor security. The box wasn't even chained to the sign or secured to the ground in any way. Anybody could take the thing without a second thought. Chuckling at her incredulous look, Dumitru pulled the truck up next to her, "You forget that's mom's lei. When she first opened, one person tried to steal from her. _One._ It did not end well for them. Now nobody steals." With some worry still in the back of her mind, Nathalie climbed into the truck.

* * *

2 crisp new 100 euro bills was the spending money Nathalie had brought with her. Despite making a rather decent wage as Mr. Agreste's assistant, she still resided in Paris. Rent in the City of Light was not cheap. She had lived on a budget before and could easily stretch the 200 euros into a couple meals out and some shopping. There wasn't a need to bring more. When the bank teller handed Nathalie 9 crisp new 100 lei bills, plus change, she concluded that she had neglected to consider the exchange rate. Dumitru let out an impressed whistle, "Fashion pays big. You're buying me lunch, right?"

Years spent under the wings of a businessman such as Gabriel Agreste had tuned her to identify opportunities. By her calculations, her current savings of euros theoretically translated to a fortune of lei. She'd need to look over her accounts to clarify but by her estimation Nathalie was sitting on enough capital to make a serious investment like stock or real estate.

"You ready for mici this time?" Dumitru's question shook her from her thoughts. She'd been swimming through the financial possibilities and sleepily followed her brother to a store that brought a genuine smile to her face. He held the door for her and she was washed with the scent of fresh bread and sugar. It reminded her of the bakery that employed that twin-tailed girl who was fond of Adrien. Except Greta's also had the distinct scent of cooked meats wafting from the kitchen. Many days had been spent here to relax after school was over. And it seemed the tradition hadn't changed. Boys and girls around Adrien's age filled every seat and excitedly chatted amongst themselves while eating.

The walls reminded her of the ones back in the cottage, for they too were covered in photos. Except these depicted the various events that Greta's had hosted. Several different angles of a parade outside the shop hanged next to frames of graduating class shots for every year reaching as early as 1975. Nathalie searched until she found the right year. There she was… Natalia. Just like in the dream. An open mouth cheshire grin taking most of her face. At least these faces weren't strangers. She couldn't recall the moments leading up to this photo, but she was evidently enjoying herself. There was no lie behind that smile. The smile next to Natalia's was certainly hesitant. To the untrained eye it was as genuine as the rest, but to Nathalie that smile could only be described as fake. Then her attention drifted to the next photo. A headshot of a wrinkled, glowing woman with wiry white hair. Under the headshot was a plack: "Greta Balan 1921-2010, 'Life is worth diabetes.'"

Nathalie couldn't look away. It was so soon after she had left.

"Yes, all of Bucharest mourned when Greta left us," Dumitru pressed a fresh mici roll into her hands.

The hunger that had been aching Nathalie since she crawled out of bed was gone. She had made promises to Greta. Promises of sending treats that could only be found in Paris. Promises she forgot about until right then. "What about Mihaela?"

Dumitru stopped mid-chew, "Who?" Nathalie pressed a finger to the fake smiling girl next to Natalia. Her brother peered closely until he laughed in recognition, "Oh! Greta's girl? Lawyer," he shrugged like that was all the explanation needed and headed out. Nathalie ran after him.

"She actually did it? She became a lawyer here in Bucharest?"

"Targoviste, I think."

There was disappointment. She didn't expect to feel that. "Dumitru, is anyone from when we were kids still here?"

She watched him think for a minute, scratching at the tiny stubble on his chin, "None from my class. But maybe someone from your circle of friends. I'm sorry, I can't be sure." The calm uninterested face she wore barely held against the jab dealt to her nerves. Keeping the mask around her brother was getting even harder. Maintaining a distance when dealing with work associates was simple. Family, though…

"I'll be back," she turned on her heels and walked.

"Wh—Huh? Natalia, where are you—"

"I'll meet you back at the truck later," she called without looking back at him. "Don't worry, I won't get lost."

Whether he said more and she simply couldn't hear him or he had given up, there weren't anymore protests. Her legs carried her through the cobblestone streets. Old buildings renovated with modern storefronts lined every corner. A fresh world built upon the ruins of the forgotten. In that old world, her brother not knowing would've been the end of it, but in this modern world finding an old classmate was as easy as checking a website. The question was, did she want to find them? Mihaela was as close a friend as Nino is to Adrien. Always defiant and ready to explore. Her tenacity was an inspiration to Natalia.

To Nathalie, it was a reminder of her... _failure_.

At the word, the doubts ambushed.

She unceremoniously took a massive bite out of the mici roll, focusing her frayed thoughts on the spices and tender meats. The distraction was barely enough and she was able to return to the issue of Mihaela. Nathalie was almost glad that they would most likely never cross paths again. The rest of her friends may not have been as successful as Mihaela. Some may have become glorified secretaries like Nathalie or even done much _much_ worse, but finding out was not a risk Nathalie was willing to take.

Her mind clear, Nathalie breathed deeply and managed to beat back the encroaching doubts again. A brisk walk always worked. The Agreste mansion was so large that she sometimes used the halls rather than the streets of Paris. She turned back, prepared for another road trip with Dumitru. She wasn't prepared for what she saw.

The city and the people around her vanished. The only building in her world was the one towering before her. There was no mistaking the blue brick stucco facade. It was the most colorful building in Oldtown. People had demanded the outlandish design be redone to fit more with the neighborhood, but here it remained blue. Fixed into the brick was a golden sign, the metal's luster having long faded away. Discoloration etched its way like mold toward the words 'Magazin de Moda de Nicolae'... Nicolae's Fashion Boutique. Between the extravagantly dressed mannequins Nathalie could've sworn she spotted Natalia working hard on a wedding dress.

Dear God, why did she walk here?

* * *

"You're pretty eager," Plagg noted through a mouthful of cheese.

Adrien plugged his phone into its charger to be safe, "It's just nice to have someone new to talk to, you know."

The day had crawled at an almost unbearably slow pace. After school had ended, Adrien had nearly called Marinette right then and there. However, the new assistant had arrived on schedule to take him straight home for piano practice. Her eagerness to win his approval was getting a little annoying. She even sat in on his practice, claiming she wanted to hear his talent. This of course meant he couldn't play the recording on his phone like he usually did with Nathalie. Once that was over, the rest of his afternoon was taking by a supervised study session on French History followed by several hours of stilted conversation between his Chinese lessons. At last, dinner was served and Adrien quickly dismissed the new assistant early again. The quiet meal was practically a sanctuary. Every one of his responsibilities finally taken care of, he had rushed to his room and prepared for the call.

"Talk? I thought you humans were into texting these days," Plagg lazily stretched, not really caring about the conversation.

Adrien hesitated with his answer. The kwami had a point. The thing was, Adrien wasn't really used to that yet. Being homeschooled and borderline sequestered from the outside world for most of his life, Adrien's view on communicating with others his age was… _different_. Nino called him old fashioned. Adrien simply liked talking on the phone over texting. Talking got an immediate answer.

Besides… texting would mean opening his messages.

For a moment, Adrien considered looking at the unanswered text again. To his relief, his phone rang before he could decide.

"Nino?" he answered with a smirk. Marinette's sputtering snickers made him proud. There was some nervousness in that laughter, though, it was one of the few tells Nathalie had taught him how to catch. He would have to make sure she felt comfortable. "Oh wait, Marinette? What a surprise."

"Yeah, that's me. Full of surprises. Nothing but surprises. Even though you were totally expecting me to call because I shouted you to call me later. Oh no!" Her voice shot up a few octaves and sped up super quick, "I-should've-waited-for-you-to-call-me!-Should-I-hang-up?-Am-I-too-early?!"

Adrien tried several times to get in a word, "Hey! Hey, Marinette, it's okay. Take a deep breath, it's only me."

He heard her hyperventilating slow to a normal pace, "Right… only y-you and me."

"Exactly." It was no wonder Marinette hardly talked to him. Thirty seconds in and she was on the verge of a breakdown. She must be really close to Nino and Alya to be able to talk to them so easily. "Sorry again about all this, calling you late the other night, hanging up and stuff."

"N-No! No, it's fine! I'm not bothered by that, you don't bother me, you could never bother me." Another bout of nervous laughs.

It was now clear to Adrien that Marinette was the kind of person that Nathalie referred to as a 'Space-Filler.' A person who finds the quiet in conversations to be uncomfortable and desperately fills those spaces with endless talk. Not the kindest way to describe someone, but Adrien had to admit the description strangely fit Marinette. He would need to lead again if he wanted to find what was the true problem from the previous call that was worrying her.

"Feel free to call me whenever you like, Marinette. Although I might be too busy to answer. Like today was one thing after the other with father's new assistant. I'm used to the extra classes and training father wants me to take but with her…" he searched for the right words. "It was like she wouldn't leave me alone for even a second."

"What do you mean?"

Again Adrien searched, the way the new assistant acted was so weird, "She kept asking me questions. 'How was your day?' 'Learn anything interesting?' 'What did you do?'"

"Oh… OH!" Marinette exclaimed, which worried Adrien.

"Marinette, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I mean, um, uh, Adrien, I think..." He heard her take in a deep breath. "I think that new lady really wants to talk to you."

"Well, yeah, that's pretty obvious."

"You might not be used to this, Adrien, but questions like those are normal. My parents ask me them every day because they want make sure I'm happy. They care."

Adrien was taken aback by the idea. Clearly, Marinette wasn't getting the message. "No way. She's only interested in getting a promotion in father's company. I've seen it plenty of times."

"Do the people who try to get a promotion through you usually ask how your day went?"

The question hanged in the air as Adrien thought back. They were all the same. Going above and beyond to please him, doing uncalled for favors, hinting that Adrien should tell father what a good job they're doing. Only Nathalie was different. None of them, however, asked Adrien questions about himself. Was this some kind of new tactic he hadn't figured out? There had to be a motive. There had to be!

"Adrien, I think you should talk to her."

* * *

Nathalie didn't remember how she tore herself away and sprinted back to the truck, but she did. She had tried to maintain a blank look, but it may have been too wooden as Dumitru immediately launched into wanting to know what was wrong. When it became clear that she wasn't going to acknowledge his pestering, Dumitru started the truck and drove them back to the cottage in silence. She stepped out of the vehicle and marched down the lighted gravelly driveway until she reached the firewood sign. The beginnings of the next nightly winter windstorm whipped across her fur jacket as the cold bitter sun set on the horizon.

Perhaps she could sleep in for the rest of the week, pretend she caught whatever mom had. Going back into the city willingly seemed as likely as the Gorilla becoming a world-renowned public speaker. Being at the cottage wasn't by any means less stressful but at least here there weren't any reminders of her life as Natalia.

There was a jingle of coins. By her feet, Dumitru was collecting the lei from the box. There were far more bills than Nathalie expected. Then she saw something else and the years of working for Mr. Agreste kicked in. She had a new target at which to aim her frustrations and released them in three words.

"Mom's not sick."

Dumitru grunted at her in confusion.

"She cut the rest of the wood for you." Nathalie pointed to the shack whose firewood bundle count had mysteriously tripled in their absence and went inside.

END

 _A Metaphor for Writing a Story:_

 _"Plant the seeds early and make sure the soil never goes dry.  
_ _Give them some attention and they'll bloom before your eye."_


	6. Chapter 6

_You'd think I'd have more free time to write during the summer! BUT NOOO! I got visitors, vacation plans, holidays, picnics, friends, family! How am I supposed to write a self-reflective story about an emotionally distant woman struggling to reconnect with her family when I'm constantly surrounded by LOVE?!_

 _2 ROMANIAN WORDS OF THE DAY:_

 _NEPOT = NEPHEW_

 _MATUSA = AUNT_

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 6_  
By: I Write Big

The clock ticked slowly onwards.

The music pounded as loud as a construction yard. The lights flashed like they had poor wiring. And the clock ticked slowly onwards. Natalia sipped from her barely touched glass of water and considered calling Dumitru herself.

"Thanks again for coming," sighed the equally exhausted bride-to-be.

Natalia shrugged and scowled at their captors. Several dozen empty beer bottles lay strewn around the party of laughing groomsmen. At the stroke of midnight, they had burst into the hotel room and took Elena away on their shoulders, cheering down the hall, and Natalia was close behind. Nearly an hour later, they were a mess, having spent the time drinking, joking, and loudly slurring the lyrics that came from the bar's speakers. As a child, Natalia had often fantasized about being part of the traditional Kidnapping of the Bride, but the reality was sadly underwhelming. All this drinking and partying should've been saved for tomorrow night at the Reception. Tonight should've been about Elena. None had offered to buy her anything or dance with her. They even knew Elena couldn't drink any alcohol. How could Elena be enjoying herself here?

Natalia asked the barkeeper, "Can you cut them off soon? It's getting late and we have a wedding in the morning." He agreed and announced the Last Call.

"Bunica found a spider in the wedding dress today. Says it means good luck," Elena whispered, staring down at the bowl of peanuts. From the way her shaky fingers cracked the shells and her strained smile constantly twitched, Natalia could easily tell…

"Still scared?"

She saw the small hairs on Elena's arms stand on end and, for a moment, Elena stopped pretending, "Do you have to ask?" Natalia silently admitted to herself that she didn't. "It's frightening how you can do that, Natalia. I thought you just knew your friends well, but you can read anyone like they're a book. No, _more_ than that. Like by looking at you they're telling you everything that's in their head." Again, Natalia silently admitted to herself that she wasn't wrong. "You're amazing, so talented. You can read anybody. So… can you tell me, please..." She crushed the peanuts in her fists, "Does he love me? Or is he doing this because of…?" Elena's hand hovered over her belly that was showing the barest bump.

Before her, Elena transformed. No longer was she the strong, arrogant woman Natalia aspired to become. She had regressed to a child, lost in a gnarled forest of hesitation, desperate for a guide. In her eyes, she had become hopeless, almost less than a person, willing to take any word, fact or fiction, as a new law.

"Hey Dumitru! We have your fiancee!" Natalia snapped towards the voice. A groomsman had finally taken the initiative. "You want to see her again, we demand no less than five bottles of whisk—"

With quick hands, Natalia snatched the device. The men protested but were too drunk to chase after her. She pressed the phone to her ear, looked Elena in the eye, and spoke clearly enough so both would hear.

"You're not getting your fiancee back."

Dumitru's voice sputtered on the other end, "N-Natalia? What are you doing there?"

"No one is bringing her back to you," she continued, maintaining the resolute stare into Elena's soul, "It's her choice. You need to convince her that you're worth her. That's the ransom. Good luck." Natalia offered the phone to Elena and said, "In times like these, when he's put on the spot, he tells the truth with a sniff and a soft click of the tongue on his L's."

Cupping the device as if it were made of the most fragile glass, Elena took the phone and listened. The words Dumitru used could not be heard by Natalia but she saw their effect. The child grew back from the brink of depression and Elena blossomed to the joyful woman she admired.

"I remember this night."

Nathalie nodded at the barkeeper who was now Natalia. She thought the sight of such a short and young girl cleaning a beer stein was rather ridiculous. Nathalie didn't remember when she realized she was dreaming again, but that didn't seem to matter. She and Natalia both agreed what this night meant.

"The night when I saw how much the need for love can destroy."

Bright light flooded the bar and Nathalie woke. The sun had peeked through a crack in her thick curtains and lit the entire bedroom. Little thought was given to that dream. It seemed her subconscious was determined to barrage her with the times she no longer cared for and that was fine. Compartmentalization was her forte. The nights would belong to the meaningless dreams and the days would be fought against the doubts. She could manage.

There was a renewed energy in her. It had finally happened. The grogginess of jetlag was gone. She stretched her limbs, refreshed to know that she had no intention of leaving this cottage today. No work, no care. In the mirror, there weren't any tear stains and that gave her some pride. And with that pride came an idea. She didn't have to do her hair. For years, that polished bun on the back of her head had been as ever present as the glasses on her nose. It marked her as a worker who took her role seriously and without an ounce of humor. She wasn't the kind of woman to obsess over new hairstyles but…

A tug and the bun came undone. Her hair fell to its natural length, barely brushing her shoulders, curling towards the ends. The red highlight warped awkwardly down the side of her face and the unkempt look actually made her feel a touch giddy. Getting a hold of herself, Nathalie wrapped her neck with the ugly green scarf and marched out of the room before she could indulge more childish ideas. She didn't even acknowledge her mom's door and went straight downstairs.

After a light breakfast, she settled near the fireplace where a few smoldering embers still glowed. The familiar _thunk_ of Dumitru chopping the wood outside and the easily ignored _creak_ of mom upstairs were the only sounds that morning. They served as pleasant background as Nathalie opened one of the many books she brought. Her plan was pure and simple. Wait until mom came out of her hiding spot and catch her. This game mom was playing had to stop. Setting out bowls of piftie while pretending to be sick and locking herself away? It was all too frustrating. Nathalie wasn't ashamed to admit that when she saw the wood supply the other day she nearly pounded on mom's door and demanded answers. But she held back because she knew that it would've gotten her nothing. The only way that Nathalie would know the truth was if she saw her face. Even if it was only a glimpse. Then she'd know. She only had to wait.

And Nathalie was willing to wait the entire day.

* * *

Dinner had been served but Adrien didn't have an appetite. There was no complaint against the food, the boy just knew that he wouldn't be able to keep down anything this night. The lack of school today didn't excuse him from his regular rounds of lessons, practice and such, all of which came with the company of the new assistant. Adrien had decided to give Marinette's suggestion a shot. He had told himself this was an indirect way of winning more of Marinette's trust so he could get to the root of her problem but deep down he wanted her to be right.

During the ride from home to fencing he told the new assistant about the other day at school. From fencing to piano practice he told the new assistant about his friends. And at Chinese lessons he told the new assistant about his favorite places in Paris in broken Mandarin. Throughout everything the new assistant gently responded with a warm interest Adrien hadn't seen before. Father nor the Gabriel Fashion Company were ever mentioned. As Marinette claimed, it appeared the new assistant… cared.

And it felt nice.

That drove a maddening stake of guilt into Adrien's heart. He had assumed he knew this woman's intentions and that assumption would've prevented him from ever giving her a chance if it weren't for Marinette. He could feel Nathalie looking down at him with that disapproving slight frown. The very thought twisted that stake of guilt even further.

It was that guilt that churned his stomach at the dinner table. And as he stared emptily at the plate, the new assistant excused herself early for the day.

"W-Wait!" he called.

The new assistant stepped away from the door and asked if there was something else Adrien needed.

"Uh… no," he admitted. "But you don't have to go yet."

The new assistant seemed confused by what he said. She pointed out that the last two nights Adrien had dismissed her early around this hour and asked if this was not when he preferred her to leave.

The stake twisted another inch. "Please stay! I'm sorry I… this entire day I've been talking about _me_. Could you tell me about yourself?"

The new assistant's eyes widened, her smile thinned and her weight shifted off balance. Nathalie might've known for sure, but Adrien thought the reaction was a clear indication that the new assistant hadn't been asked that question before. She slowly came to the table and sat across from him. She asked one last time if he was sure.

"Of course," smiled Adrien, at last removing that stake. "I want to hear what you have to say. And to be honest, I don't recall your name."

"...Emilie."

* * *

It was remarkable how similar Adrien and Nathalie's mom were acting. Adrien also had a habit of locking himself in his room and not responding to her calls. These fits always seemed to coincide with Akuma attacks and Nathalie reasoned the boy was fervently watching Ladybug and Chat Noir battle on television or online. Locking his door was still odd, until Nathalie realized Adrien was at _that age_ and was most likely doing what most teenage boys do behind a locked door with an image of an… _athletic_ girl.

Like those days in Paris, Nathalie found herself re-reading the same sentence over and over. The embers had died to grey ash, the shadows had shrank and elongated with the movement of the sun which was now back below the horizon. Dumitru had even come inside, made her some lunch and headed into Bucharest to grab some things, which felt like ages ago. All this and yet the _creak_ upstairs never changed. Had a bathroom been installed in mom's room in Nathalie's 10 year absence? Was mom so determined to not be seen that she'd only come out at night while Nathalie slept? Why was there—

A door opened.

Nathalie sprang to her feet but then stopped when she realized it was only Dumitru entering the cottage. "Two more days, yes...yes… no..." He wandered past her into the kitchen with several grocery bags in one hand and his phone in the other. "Can you wait a second, I just got back and I need to put things down."

Nathalie took the bags from him and began storing the food that would feed her for the rest of the week. Some breads, cheeses and meats. Mostly sandwich materials. She inwardly groaned as she remembered how poorly Dumitru cooked.

"Natalia? …Yes, she's here," said Dumitru.

She froze like a deer in headlights. It was inevitable. Having others know she was back home would eventually get out. Her calm exterior hid her discomfort with meeting those strangers in the pictures.

Dumitru continued, "I don't—Let me ask first." He pressed the phone to his chest, turned to Nathalie and didn't say a word. Nathalie could see the telltale biting of the inside of his cheek. Her brother had no clue how to phrase the question he had. From the conversation leading up to it, she concluded the other person wanted to talk. She also had a good idea who they were. Dumitru cleared his throat, "Do you want to meet him?"

Nathalie hesitated. "Him?" He wasn't talking to Elena?

"Your nepot, I mean."

That's when she remembered the photo back in the truck. The image of three energetic children tackling their parents in bed. The tiny bump of Elena's belly.

"I understand if you prefer not to, it's just he has heard so much about you and—"

Nathalie answered before she could change her mind, "It's fine."

There was eagerness in Dumitru's movements as he switched the call to video chat. She recognized his smile as the adoring yet patronizing kind that children hated more and more the older they got. Nathalie didn't think she had it in her to imitate a clownface such as that. "Here she is!" he gave a toothy grin and passed her the phone.

On the screen waited a boy a couple years younger than Adrien. An unreasonable amount of fear shook Nathalie to the core. She hadn't experienced this tense level of anxiety since her first job interview. And that was with a District Manager!

"Hi, Matusa!" the boy exclaimed and waved so rapidly it blurred half the image.

Aunt… she had been called Aunt. Yet another title with a similar uncertain response, "Hel...Hello… nepot," She glanced at Dumitru for help.

Dumitru only gave two big thumbs up and went out the front door. Most likely to get more groceries or chop some late night wood. Neither would help.

This was not Nathalie's first time dealing with a child so young. Kids had the most obvious tells and, with the proper authority, were the easiest to handle. Adrien had been much younger when she started working for Mr. Agreste. But that had been a position where she was expected to keep a distance and maintain a schedule. This was family and also a stranger. A person she'd never talked to but with whom also had an intrinsic connection. In her entire life, she had never come across a combination such as this.

"Did you spill paint on your hair?"

On instinct, Nathalie covered her red highlight and dryly gave her nepot a valuable life lesson, "Never make fun of a woman's hair." Over the course of the next 2 seconds, the child's jaw unclenched: surprise, his lips pouted to the side: reassessment, only his left eyebrow raised: incredulousness. Mixed together and Nathalie knew her brother had raised a brat. Not a brat on level with Chloe Bourgeois, thankfully. Rather, a brat who thought they were smart.

The child huffed at being told what not to do, "Mommy and daddy said you made clothes. I thought you got clothing paint on you or something."

An excuse _without_ an apology? Nathalie would need to have a serious talk with Dumitru about his parenting skills. Still, she wasn't here to correct a child. She was here to talk to her nepot. Her rude, bratty nepot. "I don't make clothes. I work for a fashion company. We _design_ clothes. Other people make them in factories."

Another raised eyebrow. "Design?" He pulled up his shirt to show a garishly grinning white cloud haphazardly slapped across the front, "Like this?"

What could only be described as a convulsion quivered in the corners of Nathalie's cheeks. Her disused facial muscles were getting another unexpected workout. She knew she shouldn't let what a child said bother her and yet it did. To compare fashion to that discount store trash was inexcusable! How was it that those related to her could so easily get a reaction where Gabriel Agreste couldn't?!

A smug smirk spread across his face, "Hey, what's with that face, Matusa?"

The hand that had covered her highlight now covered her face in an attempt to stop the seizing and to hide the effect her nepot was having. "While some of the clothes my company designs are for children, they are not covered with cartoons. I did not study to become a designer for that."

He leaned in, clearly enjoying every moment of this, "Then why do you _design_ fashion?"

"BECAUSE FASHION WAS THE ONLY THING THAT MADE MOM—" Nathalie covered her mouth and ended the call. It took her entire being to not break the phone into as many pieces as she could. Every emotion on the spectrum was coursing through her body like a hurricane. Her legs moved on their own as she tore up the staircase and across the floor until she reached mom's door. She wanted to tear it down! Crack the lock! Force her way in!

Fashion was the only thing that made mom…

But the hurricane just as quickly vanished and Nathalie collapsed to her knees. She looked up at the door and its imposing height perfectly reflected that moment decades ago. Every parent is proud of their child. They praise the worst crayon drawings as the greatest works of art. They hang them on the refrigerator to show to visitors. The smallest achievement is met with the same exaggerated congratulations and exaltation. And Nathalie's mom was no different.

Fashion was the only thing that made mom…

Then one day, a budding Natalia, not even a teenager, took a scrap of fabric and some thread from the sewing basket. With a needle, she combined the two into a scarf that proclaimed a message of love. Shyly, she had presented the scarf to her mom, looking up to her like she now looked up at the door. There was no praise. No exaggerated congrats nor exaltation.

Fashion was the only thing that made mom… cry.

Natalia had assumed she had done something wrong but mom didn't let her apologize. She explained her tears were not of sadness but of joy. Her daughter had made something truly beautiful. Natalia couldn't understand how happiness could make a person cry. Mom put it like this, there are treasures in this world where words and a smile are not possibly enough. Some treasures make a person so happy that their happiness becomes tears. She said that Natalia had a treasure. Natalia had a gift. And when Natalia grew up, she could share that treasure with the rest of the world.

And then Nathalie failed.

"Natalia?" Dumitru appeared at her side, stroking her cheek. "Are you alright? I heard you shout and—"

"You need to raise your son better," she plainly stated and stood back on her feet. Nathalie's movement was so abrupt that Dumitru's hand caught the ugly green scarf and it slipped from her neck. The scarf fell to the ground where it belonged. Control had been regained. No more emotions would be betrayed. She wouldn't allow it.

She would not allow the need for love destroy her too.

END

 _The first time I made my mom cry was when I read her a story I wrote about butterflies..._


	7. Chapter 7

_Geez, this summer has been an emotional rollercoaster. So much so that I've been neglecting to take my medicine. And by medicine I mean bringing some modicum of meaning to my life by transcribing my strained relationships through metaphorical storytelling that freely switches genders, nationalities and conflicts to better fit the source material half of these characters originate from. My doctor swears this is healthy._

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 7  
_ By: I Write Big

The song came to an end and Natalia took a seat. She quenched her dry throat with a glassful from her table's communal crystal pitcher. The cool water was barely down before the dance floor had burst back to life. Too tired to jump back in, Natalia relaxed and watched the wedding guests dance without her.

"Where did you hide it?" The speaker was Elena's mama, a thin woman who's only claim to fame was possessing the longest neck in Bucharest. She craned that long neck towards her dancing daughter and asked again, "Where?"

Natalia poured another glass, "You mean that traditional black _ugly_ ribbon? It's buried in the trail hem."

The woman laughed in that chittery huff that reminded Natalia of a bird, "When I married, I hid that garbage in my hair."

"Hair?! I was told that crime had to be _in_ the dress!"

Another chittery huff, "Bunica never tires of her rules."

"That's the part I don't understand," Natalia settled into her chair, "Aren't you and mom the traditional ones? Since when does bunica have traditions?"

"Your mom and I had been dreaming of our children getting married to each other since we were your age. However, when the time came, your bunica made it pretty clear she didn't believe the races should… mix." Natalia nearly choked on her drink. She examined the woman's face but saw no trace of a lie. "Don't give me that look. I overheard her say it to your mom the day before she married your dad. Your sweet old bunica changed her tune after you and Dumitru popped out. Before that, though, she disapproved from a distance. You're lucky she's not the kind to put how others think above her children's happiness. You might not exist otherwise."

Natalia spotted her bunica sitting at the head table. The senior's affectionate smile that was always permanently etched into her wrinkles was directed solely at the dancing newlyweds. How that pillar of understanding and warmth who read her bedtime stories could've once held such backwards views was incomprehensible. "She was one of the few who recognized that _who_ married did not matter. Only love mattered," Elena's mama concluded and then slapped Natalia's shoulder, "So, when are you getting married, huh?"

Even if Natalia had taken another sip from her glass, she wouldn't have choked again. This was a familiar topic for her. "Not my highest priority."

Rather than persist like she expected, the woman shrugged, "Mmm, maybe not yet."

The song ended but another didn't immediately replace it. Instead, the DJ spoke into the microphone, "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, please clear the way. It's time for the godmother to take the veil." Everything went dark and Natalia sat in the void until a sudden spotlight glared down at her. Another spotlight illuminated the dance floor where only Elena waited. Natalia couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was in her white dress.

With solemn responsibility, Natalia strode to the bride just as a tune that was both sweet and melancholic filled the air. Her fingers removed the delicate lace veil from Elena's hair and replaced it with a thick headscarf she somehow produced from nothing. The ceremony was completed. Elena was now symbolically no longer under her godmotherly protection but Dumitru's.

Nathalie let go of the knot she'd tied under Elena's chin and pushed through the darkness to the DJ booth. There she found little Natalia. "Why are you changing this part? I wasn't the godmother."

"You weren't?" Natalia scratched her young head with the microphone.

"No! That was Aunt Kathleen!"

"Then where were you?"

"I was still sitting over there—" She pointed back at the table with the crystal pitcher but the table was gone. In its place stood a suitcase. Wrapped around the handle was a ticket stamped with tiny yet somehow readable text.

Paris.

One way.

Nathalie growled, "Enough!" and she forced herself to wake.

She sat up without pause and went straight to the mirror. Immediately she got to work fixing her hair and forgetting the latest attempt by her subconscious. It was pathetic to slip her into a new role and assume the result would be different. All that was accomplished was a reminder of Nathalie's priorities. She had come here for a reason. A goal. And she had wasted nearly half the week already. That changed today. After her decision at mom's door last night, she'd taken a sheet of tracing paper from the sewing basket downstairs. Locking herself in her room, she spent most of the night drawing. This morning, it waited under the mirror and it would decide if this trip was actually pointless. Her hair back in the tried and true bun, Nathalie donned her heavy fur coat, tucked the folded tracing paper into her pocket, and went outside.

 _Thunk!_ "Ah, up so early, Natalia! Did you want breakfa—"

"I'll eat in town." She climbed into the truck and started the vehicle with the keys she'd grabbed from inside. Ignoring her brother's calls, she sped down the lighted driveway and straight toward Bucharest. Within half an hour she'd stopped by the bank and continued on foot into Oldtown until she arrived at her final destination.

The stucco almost glowed against the drab city with its shade of vibrant blue. When she saw it, there was some hesitation but only for the slightest moment. She stepped into the boutique. Mannequins garbed in dresses and suits most fabulous lined the walls that led to the front desk. Scribbling there was a hunched man with wiry hair that frazzled in ever directed save up. When he saw her, his pair of slim glasses dropped off his pointed nose.

"Young Natalia? Is that you?"

She nodded, "Nicolae. I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Bothering?!" He took her hands in his caring palms, "How could you think that? It has been so long since I've seen my most promising student. How have you been—"

"I've come with a design proposal," interrupted Nathalie, pulling out of his hold and marching through the back hall.

"A design?" the hunched man scurried after her.

She knew if she let Nicolae start, there'd be no end to his questioning. As Mr. Agreste had shown her, the only way to move things along was to make them happen herself. "Yes, a design that only a seasoned professional like you can handle. Do you have the bodies to work for the rest of the day on this?" She reached the back room she knew well and found a dozen young men and women working together on the same dress. "It seems you do."

"It is after the Holidays, so not much in requests. Only a few touch ups here and there," admitted Nicolae. "Let us discuss your project back at—"

"There is nothing to discuss." Nathalie drew out the sheet of tracing paper and pressed it into Nicolae's soft hands. "I'm on a time limit, Nicolae. Have your students stop everything and make a hundred of these by dinner." She then dropped a bulging envelope on the nearest worktable and fixed Nicolae with the undeniable glare she had learned from Mr. Agreste. "There's more than enough lei in there to cover any cost. Understood?"

The hunched man seemed to temporarily lose the ability to speak as he only stared, "...Natalia, are you—"

"Understood?"

He barely nodded and she left.

One of the women came forward to take the tracing paper and asked, "Who was that?"

"That was...well, actually I'm... not sure anymore."

As soon as Nathalie had left the boutique and was out of sight of anyone on the street, she leaned against an alley wall. Every step inside that building had been a battle against the doubts. Nicolae's kind voice was a continuous assault of guilt for failing the man who had believed in her since she was a child. The decade in Paris had trained her to pursue without rest. The years under Mr. Agreste had toughened her shell tenfold. Yet none of it was enough to keep her from shaking like a leaf in that alley. For a reason she couldn't explain, she pictured Adrien shaking his head in dismay at her actions. Nathalie let the doubts have their fun a while longer before banishing them back. She had made the first move. It would only truly be failure if she stopped now. By the end of the day, she'd have her design. Now, she had to spread the word.

* * *

Adrien's post-school fencing class dragged on for what felt like forever and finished without much excitement. The boy changed in the locker room as quickly as he could. His first real talk with Emilie last night had left him eager to see the assistant again. It was oddly fascinating to be learning about someone new. He'd spent hours pressing the woman to tell him more about herself. With each answer she seemed less reluctant and less embarrassed until she spoke as freely as Marinette did over the phone. Adrien considered whether he had a future in getting people to open up, like a therapist.

Bounding out of the school, he found Emilie waiting by the curb, right on time to take him home for piano practice. While walking to the car, though, Adrien spotted the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie on the corner. Among the multiple facts he learned over dinner was Emilie's love for anything coconut. She had claimed it was her absolute favorite food in the world. There was still a twinge of self-blame for not giving Emilie the chance she deserved and Nathalie had always taught him that gifts were an excellent way to smooth relationships over.

Promising that this would only take a minute, Adrien raced across the street to the bakery and scoured the glass displays for the perfect gift. Unfortunately, he was only finding sweets with nougat and nutella filling. When he stood to ask Mrs. Cheng if she had anything with coconut, he saw her daughter behind the counter instead.

He made the mistake of making direct eye contact with Marinette and the poor girl instantly froze like a deer in headlights. Years of Nathalie's lessons on manners kicked in and Adrien gently waved to her and, to his absolute surprise, Marinette shakily waved back. He could see her lips trembling. He fully expected her stutters to start filling the silence she couldn't stand.

"Hhh...hhhee..."

Marinette scrunched her eyes, covered her mouth, and breathed deeply several times with considerable effort. Adrien waited patiently as she recovered and eventually put her other hand down which had been endlessly waving the entire time. With a last clearing of her throat, Marinette smiled at Adrien and said...

"Hello."

Pride shined in Adrien because, even though it was only one word, there wasn't a hint of fear. Marinette had spoken with the same confidence and clarity he'd come to expect over the phone. His friend had come such a long way in such a short time.

"Adrien?" The bakery door jingled as Emilie entered. "We need to go."

"Oh! Right, hold on," he gave Marinette a smile, "Do you have anything made with coconut?"

His question seemed to sap every bit of Marinette's momentary bravery and she looked away. "Uh! Um! S-s-sure! They're over bear—where—mare—mmm..." The girl's slips frustrated Marinette until she gave up entirely. Silently, she bagged a couple chocolate covered coconut mounds. Marinette put them on the counter and disappeared into the kitchen before Adrien could ask the price.

The retreat saddened Adrien. He blamed himself. He shouldn't've smiled so wide. That always seemed to trigger Marinette's nerves and he completely forgot. With a heavy sigh, he left more than enough euros near the register and exited the bakery. He gave Emilie her gift and climbed into the car.

"Was that Marinette?" clarified Emilie, "She was much shyer than you made her sound."

"She's better when she doesn't have to look at people," muttered Adrien.

"At people or _you_?" Emilie asked with a knowing smile.

Adrien didn't hear that question nor see that smile. His mind was elsewhere. As the Gorilla drove them home, Adrien watched Paris speed by, worrying if he had accidentally undone some of Marinette's progress.

* * *

The bag crinkled in the passenger seat as Nathalie drove out of Bucharest. She wondered what she planned to do with the sample she had taken. It was only one of the hundred-fifty Nicolae and his students had completed over an hour earlier than expected. She graciously tipped them for their hard work. The rest she had left in the storage room of Greta's. The owner, a cousin of Greta who still remembered Natalia, had readily agreed to tomorrow's arrangements in the store. All that remained was for Nathalie to launch the online campaign she'd spent the day building. For hours, she had crafted every future post, researched the most optimal times they should go online, and organized them into a graph. All of this was done on her phone which received incessant attempted calls from Dumitru. She'd have to explain herself at the cottage. All of this was necessary. Except, there wasn't a need for Nathalie to take one of her designs with her and yet she did.

Nathalie turned onto the lighted driveway just as the nightly wind storm began to roar. She rushed to the cottage door, but found it locked. Thankfully, the key was in still in the flower pot and she let herself in.

"Dumitru, I'm back. Sorry, today was very busy."

There was no answer. Only the _creak_ of mom upstairs.

"Dumitru?"

She hanged her fur coat and noticed his hook was empty. Nathalie checked her phone. Among the dozens of unread texts was one voicemail. She played it.

"You drove off before I could tell you, Natalia. I know I said I would stay until tomorrow night but Elena asked me to come back today. I told her about your… cry last night and that you should probably not be alone. Then you stole the goddamn truck! Hehehe, that was… that was scary. You have to understand, I haven't seen you in ten years. I was scared for my little sister. So, I followed you. I didn't know where you were going or what you were going to do after yesterday. Imagine my surprise when I saw you working. Negotiating. Creating like you had always dreamed. And I realized that I am not needed. You can handle yourself, Natalia... There are… there are days when I wish I could be as determined as you. To be a risk taker. I know I smile and laugh, but I dream of quitting my office job and becoming more... like you have. Sorry, I shouldn't have said. What if Elena heard, right? Hehehe... So, after I knew you were safe, I came back here and I waited for as long as I could, hoping to say goodbye but I guess this will have to do. Some heads up, word has been getting around that you're back. You may have some visitors soon. Be strong, Natalia. You are meant for great things. I love you... and so does mom."

The message ended. Nathalie moved to the kitchen, dropped the sample on the floor, and sat before the crackling fire. On the table waited a still warm bowl of fresh piftie.

* * *

The rest of the day had been as uneventful as fencing class. While Emilie gratefully thanked Adrien for the candy and Adrien was happy to share more with the assistant, he couldn't stop thinking about the bakery incident earlier. It nagged at the back of his mind all the way to dinner. It didn't help that Emilie kept asking for details about Marinette with as much enthusiasm as she had asked about him only the other day. Like before, Adrien found the strong interest weird but chalked it up to his ignorance again.

A professional cough interrupted his meal picking, "I'll see you first thing in the morning," said Emilie as she headed for the door.

"W-What? Wait!" Adrien looked at the dining room grandfather clock and almost bolted from his chair after her. "It's still early. I told you yesterday, you don't have to go around this time."

"I actually have a thing to take care of tonight, Adrien," she apologized. "I'd happily come early tomorrow to make up."

Adrien was stunned at her offer, "Really?"

"Of course! Sometimes meeting halfway works best." She offered one last knowing smile, "Like when people are having trouble _communicating_." Emilie then excused herself for the day and Adrien was left to finish his dinner alone in deep thought. Mostly alone.

"What a strange lady," commented Plagg from Adrien's shirt, "How come the older you humans get, the more annoyingly cryptic you get too? Come on, what's wrong with 'Hey, try doing this?'"

Adrien ignored his Kwami as Emilie's words swam laps through his head, teasing their true meaning. By the time he marched past Father's still lit office and sat on his bed, he thought he had a plan. He fished out his phone and dialed.

"H-Hey..."

He cringed as he heard her shame, "Hi… Marinette, I have, uh, an idea. Do you have tape? Not like clear tape, the solid colored in kind."

"Yeah..."

"Put a strip of tape over the top of your phone."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know how to explain it so, please, trust me," he begged. He listened to the fumbles of movement on the other end. At last, she said she was done. Doing a silent prayer, Adrien pulled his phone from his ear and pressed 'video chat.' A message of the request being sent appeared and he waited for what felt like hours. Then his screen went red and he saw a tiny live feed of himself in the corner.

He waved and dared to smile that extra millimeter, "Is this okay?" There were hushed squeaks from the red screen and Adrien feared this wouldn't work. Still, he couldn't give up now, "Marinette, look at me." Her hushed squeaks stopped for a second and he took it. "It wasn't that bad. You can't let what happened today get to you. You've gotten so much better at this, Marinette, but I want to be able to talk to you in person. Face to face. Maybe not today, maybe not next week, but someday. I know I'm sounding selfish but it's the truth. Please, until you're ready, can we try this?" He peered at the solid red. There wasn't any discernible shape hidden in the color but he knew she was just beyond.

"...Yeah, I think this is okay."

END

 _The veil-headscarf ceremony in the first scene is a real Romanian wedding tradition. A godcouple is chosen specifically for the ceremony. A song titled "Say Goodbye, Dear Bride" is played. The godmother takes off the bride's veil and replaces it with a headscarf to symbolize becoming a housewife who takes care of children._

 _I still prefer the wedding tradition of Best Man. That's where the groom chooses his best swordsman to hold a blade to his bride's throat during the exchanging of vows so nobody interferes! I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP AND I AM REQUIRING IT IN MY PRENUP!_


	8. Chapter 8

_I had to take a break from this fic because mom and I had that talk. You know, that talk in every tearjerker movie ever made where the main character and their estranged mother attempt to overcome the years of pain and distance and come to the mutual understanding that despite the mistakes, disagreements, and the inability to emotionally connect there will always be that unconditional love that can never broken._

 _Yeah, we got about 78% there before things just… stopped. Why? I'm hoping this fic will help me figure that out._

 _Really wish life was like a movie sometimes. With easy answers and the only thing needed is love. But I guess those are just movies… and this is Earth._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 8  
_ By: I Write Big

His face was like a barren wasteland with a pair of ice cold eyes. Nathalie kept her back straight and tried again to catch any tells as Gabriel Agreste looked over her resume. From the moment she walked into his immaculate office that was inside his even more grandiose mansion, the man had remained a mysterious puzzle she couldn't crack. No twitches, no wrinkles, not a single hitch in his calm and commanding speech as he asked for details of her work experience. Any answer she gave was received with the same low hum and neutral slight nod. He wore the perfect mask. For the first time in a very long time, Nathalie felt intimidated.

At last Mr. Agreste placed her paperwork down and clasped his hands together on the desk, "Forgive me if this comes out wrong, Miss Sancoeur, but you are aware the job is for a Personal Assistant position?"

"I do."

"Yet you have extensive training in fashion design and a record decorated with internships from multiple boutiques back in Romania." Those ice cold eyes bore into Nathalie and she wondered if this sense of being visually dissected was how her family and former classmates felt around her. "Wouldn't you be better suited applying for a Designer position?"

Nathalie held her tongue against the festering desire to point out that she had already applied for a Designer position with the Gabriel Fashion Company and never heard back. She resisted the urge to childishly complain about the hundreds of unanswered applications she had sent across Paris, how the cost of sending thousands of portfolio samples had slowly eaten away at her savings. She had no interest in being a Personal Assistant but financially she had started to become desperate. Even a minimum wage job had started to look less like a humiliating loss and more of a necessity for survival. It was with intense self-loathing that she had applied for the Personal Assistant job and it was with even deeper abhorrence that she actually got an interview. Her first interview in over a year. She held this all back and diverted, "I can assure you, Mr. Agreste, that I am more than qualified. I can type at an average of 85 words per minute and my scheduling and organizational skills have been described as 'beyond superb.' You won't find a better Personal Assistant."

"Is this where you want to be?" Mr. Agreste didn't so much as flinch.

"Yes."

The man hummed and Nathalie knew she had answered a touch too quickly. "Very well," he gave that same neutral slight nod, "Thank you for coming. I'll be in touch if I wish to move forward with your employment." His tone of finality left a sinking sensation in Nathalie's chest. She wordlessly left the office and followed the winding halls, trying not to tremble. Over the rumbling doubts echoed the laughter of children. Nathalie looked down the marble staircase. A floor below, across the elegant flooring, scampered two loud blonde kids who couldn't be more than five years old.

"Adrien! Chloe! No running inside the house!" said a woman as she playfully chased after them. The woman's striking beauty rivaled Elena's but Nathalie was more entranced by the carefree nature of the little ones.

Nathalie hadn't laughed like that since she left Bucharest.

Nathalie hadn't smiled like that since she left Bucharest.

Nathalie hadn't made a friend since she left Bucharest.

"You look amazing in that dress suit." Nathalie turned to the beautiful woman. She was inspecting her with such an almost immature amount of curiosity that Nathalie wondered if this woman was really an adult. "I've never seen a design like that," the woman pointed to her outfit.

"...Well, I made it myself," Nathalie answered with some wariness; not because she didn't trust the woman, but because her glowing exuberance reminded Nathalie so much of mom and how she hadn't returned any of mom's calls since she landed. Those ignored calls had been coming less and less frequently.

"What you're wearing is far better than anything Wardrobe has ever made for me on set." The woman then stumbled forward as the two children grabbed her legs from behind and peeked at Nathalie. The boy covered in cartoony band-aids waved. The girl with pigtails stuck out her tongue. The woman shooed the two to the next room before approaching Nathalie. "Do you have a business card? My next film might be in need of an outfit as good as yours."

There was no need to hide any emotion, Nathalie was too stunned at her good fortune to react. She fished the stack of cards out of her purse and gave the least wrinkled looking one to the woman.

"Natalia Sancoeur," the woman read.

Nathalie nearly choked, "T-That's an old card. I, uh, I mostly go by Nathalie now."

"Both are gorgeous names. I'm Emilie." A whiny call for 'mommy' drew the woman to the next room and she bid Nathalie goodbye. She watched her go with deeply held hope that this chance meeting was where her luck would finally change.

There was a tug on Nathalie's sleeve and she looked down at young Natalia.

"Do you think she's why Mr. Agreste hired you?" the girl asked. "You obviously didn't make the best impression with him so..."

"You know very well she's the reason why," Nathalie sternly pulled her arm away and willed herself to awaken.

The fog of her own breath in the golden sun greeted Nathalie. Freezing air nipped at her skin which didn't have the comforting warmth of a blanket. She rose from the couch and watched the last of the fireplace logs crumble to ash. The _creak_ of mom upstairs bid her a good morning. Nathalie waited for the _thunk_ of Dumitru outside but it never came.

The sample she had brought back to the cottage layed on the floor next to her feet. It was with a melancholic sigh that she realized why she had taken it with her. Somewhere deep inside, she had wanted to show it to Dumitru. Why? Was it pride? Did she want to show off? Whatever the motive, she imagined her brother would've overplayed how impressed he was with her work but then doubled back, pretending to find tiny grievances. Maybe he would've acted like a critic as haughty as Audrey Bourgeois. And she would've played along, defending her design with the practiced ease and confidence she'd learned from Mr. Agreste. The jokes would've escalated and become more ridiculous until Dumitru burst into his booming laughter. And she would've smiled.

Would've.

Nathalie dug her phone out from between the cushions and opened the online campaign she'd constructed yesterday. Everything was in place. She pushed the 'post' button and went upstairs to change her clothes.

* * *

"You look like you slept well."

That was an understatement. Adrien didn't even remember when he had fallen asleep, but it was the most refreshing night in ages. Not once did he wake with an irrational desire to check his text messages. He had even snoozed through his alarm and Emilie had to wake him. Plagg said he was gonna wake Adrien but got distracted by falling asleep himself. Since Emilie had came early like she promised, there was time to eat breakfast together. It was the first breakfast Adrien hadn't spent alone since mother left. Usually father took his meals in his office and Nathalie only showed up halfway through the meal to go over the day's schedule before letting him finish on his own. Having someone there to talk with seemed to make the sun shine a bit brighter.

"It was a fun night," admitted Adrien as he dug into his omelete.

"Was it?"

"Thanks again for the advice."

Emilie gave that same oddly knowing smile, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

In his head he could still hear the source of his good rest. It came from a screen of red, and such a unique shade of red too. The color combined with Marinette's voice had been for some reason so… familiar…

Hiding her face during their talk last night had given his friend another level of confidence, only occasionally stuttering, especially when he accidentally smiled that extra millimeter. For hours they had chatted but he came no closer to discovering Marinette's problem. On the surface, she came off as carefree but her concise tone and frequent filling of the silence with random words and nervous laughs were clear signs of what Nathalie had called 'preoccupation.' Something was weighing heavily on Marinette's mind and Adrien was compelled to help.

"I know this isn't exactly the healthiest breakfast, but these're so good," Emilie nibbled on the last of the chocolate covered coconut mounds that Adrien had gotten her. The sight of his gift brought an idea to Adrien. Perhaps, he should try an indirect approach.

* * *

Three likes on the announcement post. Online traffic to the page was still low to nonexistent. Zero notifications from any noteworthy fashion sites. Statistically speaking this was the most ideal time to gain their attention. None of her requests from previous business connections to spread the link had responded yet. Next post was scheduled in nineteen minutes. Nathalie lowered her phone and tried to be as relaxed as her stiff inexpressive exterior suggested. The owner of Greta's had been kind enough to lend her a small table in the corner of the store to lay out her product. All 149 were folded and stacked neatly next to a small coin box that waited to be filled with lei. Hours had passed without a single customer glancing at the display. Was the corner too dark? A blind angle? Maybe she should take the plunge and send the link to Audrey. It was insanely risky, but maybe her inevitable negative review would spark some interest.

Then there was the jingle of coin. "These turned out well, didn't they?" The soft hands of Nicolae dropped some lei in the box and took one, "Scarfs aren't really my thing, but it is winter." Her old teacher wrapped the first of the 149 scarfs around his neck. The extra cotton bunched up on his hunched back. The thrill of seeing her design being worn made Nathalie's heart race. Fulfillment, satisfaction, joy, gratification, all of these and more nearly pushed her over the edge but she managed to keep it to a small smile. "What with all the unnecessary tips you gave us yesterday, Natalia, my students decided to make you a couple extra." Some of the young men and women from the boutique carried in a couple boxes and placed them next to the table. "Don't want you to run out due to demand."

Her smile faltered, "I don't think that's going to be a problem." As always, Nicolae's unbridled generosity was overwhelming. "I'm sorry about how rude I was the other day, Nicolae. I suppose I was embarrassed about the idea of selling scarfs out of Greta's. Not exactly where you expected to find your 'most promising student', huh?"

The hunched man rubbed the cotton scarf between his fingers as he looked around them at the meager store. Popular but by no means an actual fashion outlet. Even with the added hands setting out the extra scarfs, not one customer looked their way.

"When you flew to your dad's country, Natalia, I never once felt you casted a shadow in vain. Everything you touched bloomed and you were strong." He shrugged, "Maybe too strong for most people. You were so strong that you didn't need anyone else. You didn't _want_ anyone else. Perhaps this was my greatest mistake as a teacher." His soft hands took hers and Nicolae made that unbending face of wisdom she hadn't seen since she left. "You are not an island, Natalia. The greatest names did not make it on their own. We like to imagine they did, but that's far from the truth. They had talent but they also had years of rejection like everybody else as well as others who believed in them, guided them, helped them despite the rejection. And they weren't too set in their ways to accept that help. We may never achieve our childhood dreams, but to have the opportunity to chase them is an adventure and a blessing."

Nicolae and his students left soon afterwards, leaving the table overflowing with scarfs. As soon as they were gone, Nathalie stumbled into the kitchen and hid herself in a storage closet. She let the mask drop completely. She waited for the doubts to make their move, but they held back. There was nothing to doubt. What Nicolae had said was the reality of her situation. She had ostracized so many for the sake of her career and what did Nathalie have to show for it? Her business connections were ignoring her requests. Her insider knowledge was proving to be useless. The only person to show any support was her old mentor.

Who did she have?

A rumble on her phone pulled her attention. It was an update on the announcement post. Shared and liked on every social media platform… by Gabriel Agreste.

* * *

He could see the strip of red tape across the top of Marinette's phone as the girl crossed the street. It would've been a lie to say he wasn't surprised. They hadn't talked today during school and it wasn't like he expected her to call right now, so why was the tape still there? Adrien then wondered if a new phone case would be appropriate. The boy knew his friend had an interest in fashion design but in his nightly talks with Marinette he hadn't learned if she was in need of any supplies. Would a new sewing machine be too much? What was the fashion equivalent of chocolate covered coconut mounds that said I appreciate you?

His phone dinged. Adrien assumed it was a message from Emilie letting him know she and Gorilla were about to pick him up for piano practice and the rest of his extra classes but what he saw instead was a post made by father…

Father rarely used his personal profile, usually delegating the online presence of the company to other departments. This had the side effect of raising the notoriety of any post made by _the_ Gabriel Agreste to almost instant fame. For a moment, Adrien dreaded the idea that his father may have unintentionally liked a cat video. He opened the post and froze.

His limo parked in front of him but he kept staring at his phone. After a while, Emilie stepped out, "Adrien? Are you ready to go?" He kept staring. "...Adrien?"

At last, he spoke, "She's doing it… She's actually doing it…"

"Adrien, why are you crying?"

END

" _Casting a shadow in vain": Romanian idiom meaning a person who was a mistake, a waste of space._

 _Now that season 2 has wrapped up with some hints to Nathalie's emotional leanings, I feel more comfortable playing around a little with her character._


	9. Chapter 9

_This really should've been the second half of chapter 8 but I posted the first half separately just to motivate myself to keep going._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 9  
_ By: I Write Big

The name burrowed itself into Nathalie's mind. Did Mr. Agreste make a mistake? Doubtful. He had taken the time to like and share the announcement post on over twelve separate sites. This was intentional. Try as she might, Nathalie couldn't picture that barren wasteland with a pair of ice cold eyes doing this for her. Yet there was his name and it filled her with hope.

"I'm not an island..." she heard herself mutter.

Her phone rumbled again and another notification appeared with a name she recognized as one of Mr. Agreste's many associates in the fashion industry. It was closely followed by another and another and another. They filled the screen and started pushing the older notifications away. The names became unfamiliar and Nathalie realized the rest of the world had caught on. Her phone vibrated endlessly and the names blurred across the screen in a mesmerizing dance of colors.

Somehow the jingle of metal broke the spell. It came from the other side of the storage closet door. She knew that jingle but maybe it was her imagination. There it was again. Two more times. By the ninth jingle she worked up the nerve to go outside. Through the kitchen window she saw Greta's was suddenly much more crowded. It was too soon for the after school rush. What were these people doing here?

She heard the jingle again and she stepped out of the kitchen.

People had flooded the shop. The owner of Greta's stood behind the register, watching as flabbergasted as Nathalie. They were all ignoring the food and instead checking their phones and pushing towards the small table in the corner. Endless lei dropped into the coinbox with a jingle of metal and hands grabbed the scarfs from the display. Those in the crowd who already had their new scarf were taking countless selfies with the product.

 _Her_ product.

"Natalia!" the owner of Greta's pushed a wide empty box into her arms and pointed to the meager coinbox now overflowing with lei. Nathalie was rooted to the spot. This was a dream. It had to be another dream. She must already be back in the cottage, fast asleep. Natalia would appear any second now and ruin the wonderful illusion. Not this time. She wouldn't allow herself to be fooled again. She clenched her eyes and willed herself to awaken.

She didn't.

Her phone kept rumbling in her hand. The jingle of coin kept sounding on the slowly clearing table. The owner of Greta's again motioned for her to exchange the boxes before lei started falling to the floor. And that's when Nathalie understood.

This was real.

She was awake.

She was smiling and she couldn't stop.

She was crying and she couldn't stop.

* * *

Emilie had allowed Adrien to skip piano practice but he had to go to the photoshoot. Father almost never allowed him to miss those. He had tried to clean his face as best as he could, but the photographer still complained about Adrien's eyes being too red and puffy. Some foundation and eye drops from the makeup artist and he was passable. Adrien stepped out onto the pure white backdrop, careful not to loosen the tie around his neck. It was too tight, he felt like he could barely breathe, but he wasn't allowed to adjust anything unless the photographer with the pencil thin mustache said so.

"You look so much better!" the photographer exclaimed. "It is remarkable how much allergies can ruin the complexion, no?"

Adrien silently agreed.

"Now, this is a joyous occasion! Show me victory! Pride!"

The stampede of shutter clicks began. Adrien took his tried and true pose that combined childlike aloofness with suave sophistication and stretched his smile that extra millimeter.

"More!" the photographer's mustache bristled with the demand. "You are witnessing the most important moment of somebody's life!"

Adrien tried to swallow but the tie only got tighter. The fabric felt like it was thickening into a heavy rope, scratching against his throat. He took a more adventurous posture and flashed his pearly teeth.

"Yes! Yes! That's it! Achieving dreams! Struggles paying off at last! Nothing has made you happier than seeing them succeed!"

The rope snapped his airway shut! Adrien was suffocating! The lights were blinding! His pockets felt so empty! He ripped the noose off and left the backdrop, ignoring the photographer's protests. He pushed past several people until he found the dressing room and locked himself inside. There on the couch were his jeans. On top of the jeans, eating a wedge of cheese, was Plagg.

"Done already?" the Kwami asked.

Adrien reached into the jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened the text messages.

' _Are you coming back?'_

Still no response.

He could barely keep his hands steady as he attempted to type out a new message.

' _I heard abou'_ Erase.

' _Fashion designer, huh? I would've helpe'_ Erase.

' _Please come bac'_ Erase.

' _Are you really from Romani'_ Erase.

' _Please com'_ Erase.

' _I'm happy for y'_ Erase.

' _Com'_

He forced himself to stop. Nothing felt right. Above his text were suggested words. The center one said ' _Congratulations'._ That's exactly what he should write. He promised to support Nathalie no matter what that might entail. Even if she never saw the message, he should say it. He should.

Erase.

* * *

The scarfs ran out around 4 in the afternoon. Pre-orders were collected until 7. Even after Nathalie paid Nicolae for tomorrow's scarfs and the owner of Greta's for their table, she had still made a profit. Just over triple the investment. Mr. Agreste would call that a more than adequate success. The box of lei sat next to her in the family truck's passenger seat. The last hour had been spent scrambling to set up an online ordering link. It seems Mr. Agreste's recommendation was being taken to heart worldwide.

Nathalie was grateful that the sun had set. None of the Bucharest street lights shined into the truck which made hiding her ever present smile easier. She hadn't been able to get rid of the thing. Each time she thought she was regaining control a new fit of tears and giggles would bubble to the surface and the corners of her mouth would tug further upwards. It would've been annoying if she wasn't so happy.

The online ordering link was shared. Five orders already. That brought another round of snickers. She was in no condition to drive through the pitch black roads back to the cottage. She was practically drunk on joy. She leaned her seat back and tried to compose her thoughts.

This is a momentary trend.

That's the response Mr. Agreste would use in the face of any success. It didn't matter if the Gabriel Fashion Company had created the hottest new fashion item. It would pass. Public interest would wane and there would most likely not be anymore demands for scarfs before the end of the week. It didn't matter. Fashion is fickle and very rarely does one design cement itself into society. She had seen Mr. Agreste working on a full year's worth of designs at once. Nothing was enough. It didn't matter.

"You have their attention," she heard herself whisper.

This trip wasn't a waste. She had proven she could make something people wanted. But could she go further? Should she stop here? Today was a test. Tomorrow would come the risk.

"Now what?"

* * *

His dinner was getting cold, but Adrien wasn't hungry. He had dismissed Emilie early who reluctantly left despite her worried looks. Eventually, when the silence got annoying, Plagg floated out of his shirt with a grumble.

"Come on, man, you haven't said a word since the photoshoot. What's going on? Talk to me."

Adrien said nothing.

"What about that Marinette girl? Will you talk to her?"

The suggestion filled Adrien with even more shame. He couldn't bother Marinette with this. He was supposed to be helping her with her problems. Not the other way around. Besides, there wasn't any problem to solve. He had promised he would support Nathalie no matter what. He didn't need to bother anyone. Adrien rose from the table and left his cold dinner behind. He headed for his room, listening to the hollow echoes of his footsteps on the marble floor. Then a ball of black zipped past his nose and Adrien saw his Kwami floating before his father's office door.

"Plagg, what're you—"

He banged on the door!

"Plagg!"

Adrien nabbed the Kwami out of the air and stuffed him back in his shirt. The boy tried to be as silent as a ghost. The tiny troublemaker's knocks had been like the slightest taps. The typing of father's keyboard probably drowned them out. He could just slip away.

"Come in, Adrien."

The boy stiffened and glared down at Plagg before opening the door. He needed to take a moment to squint his eyes. Father always kept his office so brightly lit that it felt like the sun itself was beating down from the ceiling. Adrien barely poked his head in and gave his best apologetic smile, "I accidentally tripped against the door. Didn't mean to bother you, father, sorry. Goodnight."

"I was told what happened at the photoshoot today."

Adrien didn't move. It was like he had been ensnared by a net while simultaneously hit with multiple paralyzing darts.

His father stepped around the desk and fully opened the office door. "What's wrong?"

A terrible thought suddenly occurred to Adrien. If there was anybody who could get Nathalie to come back, it was father. She still worked for him. If father said so, Nathalie would be on the next flight to Paris. All Adrien had to do was tell the truth. He almost did.

"Nothing."

"The photographer wasn't unprofessional?"

"No."

"Is it the new assistant?"

"Nothing happened."

His father hummed, "I see… Then this is about Nathalie."

Adrien's voice caught in his suddenly dry throat. That wasn't a question. His father had plainly stated exactly what was consuming his mind as if it was the most obvious answer. His father brusquely turned and marched back into his office. It was the march that Adrien knew doubled as a nonvocal order to follow. As if in a trance, Adrien entered and sat on the edge of the white leather couch.

"I myself was surprised by her initiative," his father admitted while looking out the window, "I had nearly forgotten about Nathalie's ambitions."

"She's… She's not in trouble, is she?"

His father shifted around and gave Adrien an inquisitive look, "Is that what's worrying you?"

Adrien turned away before it was too late. If he looked father in the eye, he might crack. It was taking every ounce of restraint to hold his pleas in.

He heard his father walk across the room. Something heavy slid across wood. His father walked back and sat next to Adrien. In his arms his father opened a thick binder to reveal photos of mother. In the background he saw film equipment and lights. What looked like a director was emphatically talking to mother. And behind mother, working diligently on the waistline of the elegant dress she wore was...

"Nathalie? Is that Nathalie?" Her hair was a little longer and the red highlight was missing, but there was no mistake. "I didn't know she worked with mother."

"On a couple of her passion projects. There was a time when the two of them were inseparable." Adrien saw a somber nostalgia come over his father. He usually got like this when they talked about mother.

"But, wait..." Adrien attempted to recall his mother's acting career. There were some vague memories of mother heading to set in the back of Adrien's mind, however in all those memories Nathalie stayed home with him. Something must have happened between then and when these photos were taken. "If Nathalie wanted to become a fashion designer, why did she stop making clothes for mother?"

That somber nostalgia shifted to something Adrien couldn't quite place. His father's face had become unreadable again. "I'm not entirely sure. However, I do know that Nathalie made your mother more beautiful than I ever could," his father said as he slowly flipped the page to even more behind the scenes shots that showed mother and Nathalie stitching away. "She's not in trouble, Adrien. I would never get in Nathalie's way."

Adrien's sights landed on a photo where mother was stepping onto set, a rich gown flowing behind her. Watching mother go was Nathalie, shining with a soft smile. He couldn't tear himself away from that smile. He had never seen Nathalie smile like that. It was so… genuine. A drop of water splattered on the image and that's when Adrien realized he was crying again. Before Adrien knew it was happening, his father's arms were wrapped around him. These hugs were so far apart yet always so warm. Adrien instantly melted into his father's hold. The comfort dried the tears and Adrien finally spoke his mind.

"But what if she never comes back?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Adrien."

END

 _You know, ''resolution' has several different meanings..._


	10. Chapter 10

_Dear God, TheLilyoftheValley, you really know how to inspire._

 _R.D: Gabriel said that last line._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 10  
_ By: I Write Big

"Only your dad is French?"

Mrs. Agreste craned her neck around, trying to look at Nathalie. The unfinished sundress nearly slipped off the woman's shoulder. Nathalie caught the strap and Mrs. Agreste's face and put them both back in place. Working on live models always gave Nathalie headaches. Most trembled and whined about the pins, convinced that one would prick them to death. Mrs. Agreste was one of those rare few who showed no fear. Instead, she carried on moving and conversing as if there wasn't a woman with a very sharp needle behind her trying to stitch a proper waistline. While annoying, Nathalie had to admit that Mrs. Agreste moved with an admirable elegance. It was almost like dancing. More than a few times, Nathalie had caught herself staring at the beautiful woman.

"Please, hold still. Yes, my dad met my mom in college. He taught me the language and told me bedtime stories about the fabled City of Love. How it was the most perfect place in the world. Filled with art and food that should only exist in dreams. I couldn't wait to be old enough to come here."

A round of giggles shook Mrs. Agreste and Nathalie held the dress in place until she stopped. "Wow… And has Paris met your expectations?"

Nathalie made sure none of the pins had slipped. "It smells."

Just as expected, roaring laughter burst, revealing Mrs. Agreste's pearly white teeth. "Well, that will happen when you build such a large city on a river. You don't want to know what Venice smells like on a hot summer day."

Nathalie snuck in a few more stitches as her model recovered. "Other than that, Paris has been quite nice, Mrs. Agreste." The laughter stopped. The needle flew out of Nathalie's hand as the beautiful woman spun around. She forgot how to breathe as the radiance of her model combined with the simple yet sophisticated sundress that fluttered around her form shone brighter than the sun. Back in Bucharest, Nathalie had thought that Elena's grace would be all the inspiration she needed. Was this what Nicolae meant by finding your muse?

"Heeeey..." Mrs. Agreste's childish nature showed itself again with a pout that perfectly fit a 10-year-old. "I told you to call me Emilie."

Nathalie held back her sigh at the woman's behavior. She had thought she'd seen the last of this 'cutesy' act after she graduated high school. But it seemed some never grew out of the habit. While not as unreadable as her Mr. Agreste's stone cold exterior, Nathalie had found that her model managed to hide her tells with the faces of the characters she played on-screen. Some days Nathalie would be talking with a sophisticated aristocrat or a hardened spy. Other days, like today, she was dealing with a child. The most remarkable thing was that each and every persona had a different set of tells. No two were the same. She truly was an actress. Nathalie hardened her stare and spoke as if she was admonishing Adrien. "That would be unprofessional, _Mrs. Agreste_."

"Fine. Then I'm calling you _Natalia._ "

"I'd rather you didn't call me that."

The only betrayal was a slight twitch of an eyebrow. Other than that, Nathalie kept her face absolutely composed. On the inside though, her stomach had become a pit. She harshly grabbed her model's sides and twisted her back around. The needle was gone, probably tumbled off the thread at some point. Nathalie pulled out another from the pin cushion.

She threaded the needle and continued the waistline with hard jabs. At the fifth stitch, a warm hand softly took hers. Nathalie glanced up at Emilie who kept facing forward while holding onto her. Even though she couldn't see her face, Nathalie heard her honest remorse. The character was gone. Emilie was speaking. "I'm sorry. I was only teasing. If you don't want to be called that name, then I won't. But you shouldn't worry about being unprofessional, Nathalie. With how much time we spend together, not to mention how much Adrien adores you… You're my friend."

That last word didn't sit well. Nathalie didn't have the greatest track record when it came to friends. As much as she appreciated the woman's kindness, Nathalie knew it wouldn't last.

The way Emilie's thumb stroked her palm… The touch reminded Nathalie of mom. How she held Natalia. How she hummed songs into Natalia's ear when she became upset. How the unanswered calls stopped coming. She wanted to kiss that loving hand and apologize to mom for not talking to her for so long. To explain to her how stupid she was being. To tell her why she lied about her name.

A pair of gentle lips pressed against her fingers. It was little Natalia stroking her palm now. "You can tell me."

Shivers ran up and down her body. The words cracked in her throat several times, before Nathalie firmly took Natalia's hand. "You believed in me so much, mom, and I didn't want to fail you. I didn't want you to hear about your little Natalia struggling to survive. S-So, when I got the chance, I too-too-took the name so I cou-cou-could hide. J-J-Just in ca-ca-case it was all f-f-for no-no-nothing."

The shivering didn't stop even as Natalia pressed her gentle lips against Nathalie's fingers a second time. "Then why didn't you change your name back when you got work with Emilie?"

Nathalie's teeth started to chatter. The shivers were shaking her from head to toe. She pulled out of Natalia's hold and wrapped her arms around her frigid self. "Y-You kno-kno-know why. Be-Be-Be-Beca-ca-ca-ca-cause it-t-t-t-t-t-t-t..." Her voice was gone.

"You should get somewhere warm."

Nathalie jolted awake. Her entire body was vibrating. Her mind raced to gather facts. She wasn't in a bed. This was a chair. Car chair. Car _seat_. Not a car. Truck. She was in the family truck. Light in the window. Sky is dark. Not the sun. Street light. Windows fogged. Not fog. Ice. A puffy cloud billowed out of her mouth and a fresh batch of mini-earthquakes racked her body.

She was freezing.

Zipping her fur coat shut, she twisted the key in the ignition. For several agonizing minutes, the heater pushed out cold air. In her dazed mind, Nathalie considered going outside and starting a campfire, using her clothes as the logs. That made sense, right? Anything to not be cold. Her numb fingers fumbled for the door handle. _Out. She needed to get out._ At last, air as hot as the Serengeti wafted in and the feeling in her cheeks returned. Her mind felt like a glacier being melted with a hairdryer. Rationality started to thaw. Her hand fell away from the door. Eventually, Nathalie glanced to her side and spotted the box of lei still in the passenger seat. She had not meant to sleep here. It was only supposed to be a couple minutes until she calmed down enough to drive back to the cottage. There had been plenty of newspaper headlines growing up about some idiot entombing themself in a four-wheeled igloo. Nathalie nearly joined their ranks. Well, here the obituary would've said Natalia.

"Because it wasn't enough," she whispered without really understanding why.

When her fingers stopped feeling like icicles, she checked her phone. It was barely past three in the morning. Despite the late hour, she didn't feel like going back to sleep. She was already focused on the question she had asked herself hours ago.

"Now what?"

The answer that presented itself to her in that moment was not one of sound logic. In retrospect, Nathalie would blame it on the emotional dream combined with the hypothermia and the sleep deprivation. Whatever the reasoning she had in that moment, Nathalie decided on her next move. She did a quick search online and found the address.

Her phone calculated and said, "Starting route to Targoviste."

Soon, Nathalie was back at the cottage. The warmth from the fireplace was very welcome. In the kitchen, she threw together a couple meager sandwiches from the meats and cheeses that Dumitru had left her. She dropped the box of lei at the foot of her bed and picked out her most business looking outfit from her suitcase. She hadn't exactly packed for a meeting like this. Perhaps she could buy something more appropriate on the way. As she pocketed some of the lei for the road, a detail suddenly hit her.

It was quiet.

For the first time since she arrived, there was no _creak_ of mom on the other side of the wall. That shiver came back.

With hesitant steps, Nathalie crept back into the hallway and stared at her mom's silent unguarded bedroom door. She got closer. Every time her foot touched the ground she feared an old floorboard would announce her presence with a louder than life groan. The night had a strange talent for amplifying sounds people usually don't notice. She was in front of the door. The black iron handle waited. It would be locked. It had to be locked. She twisted the metal slowly, waiting for the deadbolt to inevitably stop her.

 _Click._

Barely an inch of darkness was revealed as the door cracked open. Nathalie stood frozen on the spot. She felt colder than she had in the truck. Even the doubts didn't know how to react. Had the door been unlocked this whole time? Of course not! She'd tried the knob the first night here! ...Didn't she? Had she ever actually tried to open the door? She couldn't remember.

The lei! Nathalie could go in there, wake mom up, and show her the box of lei. The sample she had brought for Dumitru! It was still downstairs! She could show her that too! She could tell mom all about Paris until the sun rose! She would see mom's face and then Nathalie would know!

Then mom would know...

Maybe mom wasn't in there. Nathalie had been gone for nearly a full 24 hours. Maybe she thought Nathalie was gone for good and was finally wandering somewhere in the cottage. But Nathalie had already done a full circuit of the tiny home. The only room she hadn't gone through was the one with shelves lined with family photos.

Photos of everyone _except_ _Natalia_.

She shut the door and went back to her room. She grabbed her clothes and went downstairs. The only thing missing was the sample. Nathalie found the scarf on a hook near the coat stand. Guess mom had seen it after all. Probably thought it was something Nathalie had gotten in Paris and hanged it for her. Nathalie folded the sample and placed it in her bag. On her way out, she spotted one last surprise. Wrapped around another hook was the ugly green scarf Adrien had given her. Where had she last seen that? She couldn't remember that either. Nathalie left it behind and got back in the truck.

* * *

The idea of being tired of sleeping was a concept Adrien had never thought possible. And yet here he was. If he laid in bed, he knew it would only result in 8 straight hours of tossing and turning in a dreaded half-conscious state where rest did not exist. How could he rest? His mind was buzzing. Even though he hadn't asked father to bring Nathalie back, father had made it indirectly clear that he wouldn't try. To father, Nathalie was free to go if she chose. The only person who could bring Nathalie back was Nathalie. Round and round Adrien's thoughts spun in an endless cycle. He never realized how much of a relief having other people to talk with could be. He no longer cared about bothering somebody with his problems. They were becoming unbearable. However, at this time of night, there was not a soul awake in Paris. He couldn't call Nino, Marinette, or even Chloe at this hour. Even Plagg was out cold, snoring softly on a pillow over a hundred times the Kwami's tiny size.

The phone that carried the unanswered text was gripped tightly in his palm. He'd been looking at it again; at the little grayed out message informing him it had been delivered and read the same day he had sent it. Still no reply.

A distraction was sorely needed to keep him away. He tried wandering the mansion halls, watching the stars twinkle in the sky, and even reviewing his daily schedule which would begin in a few long agonizing hours. None were enough. He would always drift back. One time, though, when his mind returned to Nathalie, a certain part stuck out.

"Nathalie worked with mother." Anxiety became curiosity. Adrien browsed on his phone and, for the first time ever, looked up his mother's acting career.

There were more titles than he expected. He didn't recognize any of them. Maybe they were indy films. Amongst the barrage of works, a particular title caught his attention.

'SOLITUDE'

A rather apt title that resonated with Adrien's current frame of mind. He made a note to find a copy of this 'SOLITUDE' and give it a watch. Going to the movie's page, he barely skimmed through the plot summary before tapping the crew link. Two-thirds down, buried under several dozen names, he found her:

'Nathalie Sancoeur - Costume Designer & Personal Assistant of Emilie Agreste'

He went to her page. It contained the barest of information. Birthday, name, wardrobe department. There wasn't even a headshot. Adrien grumbled. He didn't know what he was looking for, but this wasn't helping. He had meant to focus on mother but he ended up on Nathalie once again. His thumb reached to close the window, but paused. There wasn't nearly as many movies listed under Nathalie. In fact, the last one she ever worked on was… 'SOLITUDE.'

Adrien recalled how father claimed mother and Nathalie were at one point inseparable. Something happened between them. Father said he didn't know what. Was he lying? Adrien didn't think so, but he didn't have the almost supernatural face-reading ability that Nathalie possessed.

What happened?

More than ever, Adrien wanted to watch this 'SOLITUDE.'

* * *

The hour and a half drive went by too quickly. Not a single car passed her the entire time. As Nathalie saw the Targoviste city limits, the first shades of red were washing away the stars. Steering the truck between the blocky buildings, she couldn't help but notice how peaceful Targoviste was. Even at night, Bucharest had some activity: a few drinkers stumbling around until the wee hours of dawn, several night shift workers on the corner for a smoke, a foolish parisian tourist sleeping inside her truck. In comparison, Targoviste felt like a ghost town. Nathalie could understand why Mihaela chose this place.

"You have arrived at your destination," her phone said.

Nathalie stopped and she sat there for the next five hours. The first living person she saw was a street cleaner, hugging the corner just before the sun replaced the lampposts. She watched a herd of people in business suits and dresses flood a coffee shop before crossing the road to some sort of office building. The sight reminded her of when a nine-year-old Adrien ("I'm nine and a half!") marveled at a similar mass of pencil pushers in the Gabriel corporate office. Nathalie had been assigned to keep an eye on the boy in the lobby while Mr. Agreste was in a meeting. The morning had been spent on endless questions that never seemed to satisfy the boy.

"What do they do, Nathalie?"

"Work for your father."

"Doing what?"

"Running his business."

"I thought father did that."

"He does, but much more is needed to run a business besides designing clothes. These people help."

"Like how you help watch me when father and mother are busy?"

"...Let's play the Quiet Game, Adrien."

"Oh..." Then Adrien slipped down from his chair and trotted to the nearby break room. He came back with a complimentary danish.

"Adrien, no, you'll spoil your dinn—" He put the danish on her lap. She quickly grabbed the greasy sweet before it stained her skirt. "Why did you get me this?"

"Because we only play the Quiet Game when I hurt your feelings. I'm sorry, Nathalie."

Somewhere, a door slammed and Nathalie grabbed the steering wheel. Did she fall asleep again? She definitely needed a nap after this. She looked toward the sound that had woken her and saw a new little sign in the window: 'DESCHIS', the Romanian word for OPEN. It sat directly under: 'Balan si Asociatii.' She went inside.

Nathalie waited until the secretary finished sipping from a travel mug, which reeked of over-steeped tea, before asking, "I would like to see Mihaela Balan. Is she in?"

"Booked through the rest of the week, Ma'am. You can make an appointment. Earliest day is next Wednesday. That work?"

Zero eye contact. Nose scratch. Tongue dragged across the far right corner of the mouth. Not a lie. Too relaxed. An omission of detail. That response was a script the secretary had followed to the letter.

Nathalie didn't budge. "Who is she meeting with?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Is it Natalia Sancoeur?"

The secretary looked up from her computer and swallowed her tea. She seemed to search Nathalie's face, as if comparing it to a memory. She picked up the desk phone and dialed. A few rings later, "She's here, Miss Balan… Yes, I'll send her in… By the way, she changed her hair." The secretary hanged up and motioned for Nathalie to go through the nearest door.

Nathalie hesitated. She had been expected. How was that possible? She no longer knew what waited for her on the other side. She grabbed the handle and twisted. Strangely, opening this door was easier than mom's.

The office reminded her of the cottage. Lacquered wood gleamed on every wall and piece of furniture. Mr. Agreste preferred such a backdrop for the clothes designed to invoke a sense of authority. Up in the corner, an old wooden clock tick-tocked loudly. In front of the desk—not behind the desk in the leather chair—leaning against the seat that was usually intended for a client was Mihaela Balan.

Slight frown. Left leg a noticeable distance behind the right. Arms folded. Fists clenched.

Guarded. Why was Mihaela guarded?

The girl who had a hesitant smile in that class photo back on Greta's wall had barely grown an inch in ten years. The frizzy curls that once gave her a bush-like appearance had been straightened and made as sleek and proper as the pressed dress suit she wore. If it wasn't for the familiar way the point of her nose tugged to the right, Nathalie would not have recognized her.

The clock in the corner kept a beat in the silence with its loud tick-tocks.

Mihaela looked at Nathalie's hair. "Red? I thought you said red was only for special occasions. That's not what this is, is it?" There was no hostility in her voice but Nathalie couldn't help noticing how Mihaela's body was casually positioned to block the nearest chair. An unspoken and maybe not so unconscious message telling Nathalie to not make herself comfortable.

Nathalie tried smiling. "It kinda grew on me."

The smile wasn't returned. "Ramona. She still keeps in contact with Elena. That's how I knew you were back."

The clock kept the beat going for a while.

Nathalie maintained the smile. "Sorry for not calling before I drove over."

"Oh, I knew you'd be coming. That's why I cleared my schedule. The moment I saw your little fire sale online, I knew it was only a matter of time." Mihaela was like an unbreakable statue. At least, she was trying to be. Nathalie could tell she was doing her best to restrain herself. That didn't stop Mihaela's ear from wiggling like it did every time she was nervous but Nathalie was having a hard time spotting it. Seems like Mihaela had years of practice. "You have a… habit… of not including others, Natalia. Unless, of course, you need them, which you almost never do."

Nathalie heard a hitch in Mihaela's voice. The statue was quickly crumbling before her. Maybe coming here wasn't the best plan. "If this is a bad time—"

"Please! Don't. I've needed to say this for a very long time. I admit that I admired that independence of yours when we were younger. I honestly believed you could do anything, Natalia, because you did! Sewing Club: founder, president, and _sole_ member until the school _forced_ you to let more people in. And I watched. The design for Mom's vanillekipferl, they still use it to this day. You made that in your sleep. And I watched. New Year's Day parade float. Designed and everything by you. It was supposed to be a class project but nobody wanted to make any changes because it was so damn beautiful. And I watched. You didn't need anybody, least of all me."

The first large chunk of the statue fell. The clenching fists trembled. Wrinkles formed around the eyes. Nathalie saw anger.

"You never even told me you were moving to Paris. Dumitru was the one who told me. It was right before the graduation photo. He asked if I had made any plans to visit you yet. Not even three days later, you were gone."

That wasn't right.

The clock tick-tocked.

That _couldn't_ be right.

Nathalie tried her hardest to recall the day she bought her plane ticket. The weeks leading to graduation. Checking and re-checking that she had everything packed. She told Mihaela, didn't she? There were plenty of opportunities. They always walked to school together, ate lunch together, talked about their dreams together. Surely Nathalie mentioned Paris. She had to have said something at least once. Just like she checked if mom's door was locked when she first got back… right?

"The thing is, Natalia, you're not the only person like this. I've had dozens of clients like you. They never mean harm. You didn't mean anything by not telling me about Paris. The idea just never occurred to you. Just like it didn't occur to you to come see me after ten years until it became about _business_."

Tick tock.

"Am I wrong? If I'm wrong and you're not here because you need a lawyer to file copyright for your overnight internet sensation scarf design—congrats on that, by the way, nobody ever doubted your success—and you're really here just to see me, then say so."

Nathalie felt like she was trapped in the truck again. Sealed in an icy prison. Her hand fumbled for the door and she stumbled out. She fell into the driver's seat and blindly accelerated down the road.

"Natalia!"

She caught a glimpse of Mihaela in the side mirror. Did she shout because she wanted Nathalie to stay or because she wasn't finished with her yet? It didn't matter. She kept going. Where? Didn't matter. Maybe she'd drive until the tank was empty. The doubts could take her wherever they fancied.

"What would you say is your biggest weakness?" that barren wasteland with ice cold eyes had asked all those years ago.

What did she say? Who knows. Probably something prim and proper and delivered with a poker face that could make her millions in Vegas. Mihaela, though, she hit the nail on the head. ' _Does not work well with others, Mr. Agreste, that about sums her up. But, wait, let me spin it into a positive! Go-getter! A project-starter! Real team leader material, as long as she doesn't need to communicate with the team on a regular basis.'_

There was a loud honk and Nathalie was dimly aware of swerving around a screeching car. Her foot pressed down until the gas pedal hit the floor.

Was that why she could never get a job? How could it be? Did the recruiters smell the 'habit of not including others' on her resume before tossing her application in the incinerator? The only person who gave her an interview was Mr. Agreste and she only got the job because of his wife! A job she didn't even want! A job looking after Adrien!

Nathalie slammed on the brakes! Rubber peeled against asphalt. The doubts were flung off.

"Adrien..."

That poor boy had been waiting on her response for nearly a week. She couldn't do this to him. Not like Mihaela. Not like mom. Nathalie realized she was on a road leading out of Targoviste and pulled over onto the shoulder. She searched her pockets for her phone. The doubts prodded her. What was she going to say? She hadn't decided how to answer his question. So much had happened. In a few days, Nathalie had found more success here than ten years in Paris. Would it last? Did it need to last? Would she really be happy with a little boutique in a nowhere town?

Nathalie told the doubts to shut the hell up.

She dialed.

* * *

"But we rescheduled the shoot for _today_!" the photographer wailed.

Emilie tried to keep the much taller man from getting closer to the dressing room. "I know, I know, but I don't think he got much rest last night. Please, let Adrien sleep for just another hour."

"Madre di Dio! 30 minutes, then we start."

Beyond the door, Adrien slumbered on the couch. He was covered with a comfortably warm designer winter jacket. Emilie had pulled that jacket out of the closet and draped it over him when she found him there. It must have been meant for a plus-sized model since it easily covered the teenager's entire body. Only his arm was exposed, hanging over the edge near his cell on the floor.

 _Zzzt. Zzzt. Zzzt._

The screen said 'Nathalie.'

 _Zzzt. Zzzt. Zzzt._

The name shined under the blinking red empty battery indicator in the top right corner.

 _Zzzt. Zzzt. Zzzt._

The battery held on for as long as it could...

 _Zzzt. Zz—_

…and died.

* * *

"Hello, you've reached the voicemail box of Adrien Agreste. I can't come to the phone right, but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

 _Beep._

"I don't know." The words flowed out like a gentle breeze. That breeze carried with it the years of anxiety and stress that were hidden away behind that calm blank face. Who was she really talking to? Adrien? Mihaela? Mom? The only person in here was herself. "I wish I could tell you, but I really don't know what's going to happen. But whatever happens, I promise, _I promise_ , I won't disappear. That's all I can really tell you. I hope it's enough for now."

END

 _No, the door was never locked. Go ahead, check. Nathalie assumed but she never tried._

 _Vanillekipferl: An eastern european vanilla walnut cookie/biscuit._


	11. Chapter 11

_This is the slowest I've ever written, but it's so therapeutic. Still, I think I've strung you guys along far enough._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 11  
_ By: I Write Big

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Agreste asked.

Nathalie clenched her fingers around her phone so hard the plastic groaned in protest. The day had started out so well. It had taken Nathalie the entire night to get the lapels of the dress suit just right. Every time Nathalie thought she was done, she would find another detail that could be improved a little more. By morning, she was exhausted and still not satisfied. Now that her model wore the outfit, Nathalie realized the only thing that was missing was the beautiful woman it was meant for.

But as she admired her work, her phone began to rumble with 'Mom _'_ blazing across its screen. That sickening combination of guilt and denial that she had come to call the doubts sunk their claws in and asked her why she didn't pick up. She threw back that she hadn't succeeded yet. She'd come close but she needed to go just a bit further to make mom and dad proud. Mrs. Agreste's film projects were spread too thinly over the years, lasting less than a month and then not picking up again until the end of summer. It was maddening for a workaholic like Nathalie. She tried her hand at networking in the film business, hoping to find another outlet. Contacts were gathered, promises were made, but nothing came of them.

 _Just a little longer_ , Nathalie would tell herself. _I need more time. I'm almost there and when I get there I'll tell mom and dad and Dumitru and Elena and—_

She got a text.

"Nathalie?" Mrs. Agreste stepped closer.

Four words from Dumitru. With them, Nathalie felt a phantom pat the top of her head.

"What's wrong?" the beautiful woman whispered.

' _Dad died. Call mom.'_

"Everything is fine," Nathalie said quickly, slipping the phone into her pocket. Her face was solid as stone, professional, not a smile nor a frown. This was the workplace. This was her boss. A gentle hand draped over Nathalie's shoulder and she flinched. She looked into Mrs. Agreste's eyes and saw her mom. Was it a character? No. This was Emilie Agreste, the woman whose beauty inspired her beyond measure, the woman who gave her a chance when no one else in Paris would, the woman... who was just like her mom. She was supportive, caring, and wanted desperately to be Nathalie's friend. Did Nathalie realize she had devoted so many of her nights to appeasing a proxy mom? On some level maybe, but, on the surface, it came out as admiration. Would her real mom praise her as highly as Mrs. Agreste? That was the question. And, honestly, Nathalie was too scared to find out.

"Everything is fine," Nathalie repeated.

There was a knock at the trailer door. "Mrs. Agreste, we're ready for you on set," a voice on the other side said.

"Coming," Mrs. Agreste responded without looking away from Nathalie. Nathalie felt like she was being visually dissected again. This time she was ready. The mask held and Mrs. Agreste eventually stopped, having gained nothing. "I know something's wrong," she finally said. "Stay here, take a minute, and when I get back we can talk about it. Okay?"

"Mrs. Agreste, there's nothing wr—"

"Promise me."

"I promise… Emilie."

Mrs. Agreste grabbed her black umbrella and left the trailer. Nathalie waited for her legs to give out, for her tears to run black rivers, for her throat to choke with sobs, for her heart to shatter like fragile glass. She was alone now, it was okay. None of that happened. Nathalie stood on solid legs. Her face remained dry. Her throat didn't make a sound. Her heart kept beating. If a doctor had given Nathalie a physical right then and there, they'd have let Nathalie go with a clean bill of health. She had been right. Everything was fine. And that terrified her.

Nathalie stormed to the vanity mirror that Mrs. Agreste had used earlier and roared at her reflection. "What the hell is wrong with you? Cry, dammit! Your dad is dead! Cry!" She recalled how her dad tucked her into bed. She recalled the bedtime stories. She recalled the warmth of his large callused hand holding her tiny soft hand as they walked along the cobblestone of Oldtown. She felt a twinge in her chest, a sliver of ice cutting its way in. It held there for less than a minute and then disappeared. That was it.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

Nathalie recoiled. Her legs gave out at last, but for the wrong reasons. Those words had been empty. The woman in the mirror was broken. Her emotions were bottled up and buried so deep that she didn't have a hope to find them. She couldn't call mom like this. Not like _this._ She couldn't shed a tear. She couldn't even cry for her family. What was wrong with her?

The trailer door opened and little Natalia poked her head inside. "Come on," she said.

Nathalie gravely rose to her feet, she remembered this part. Her steps echoing loudly around her, Nathalie stepped into the sunlight and looked down at the gurgling Seine. The rest of the crew were gathered further down the riverbank. At the center, the director was huddled with Mrs. Agreste. Perhaps the angle of the stone walls bounced his voice perfectly because Nathalie heard his words as if he had murmured them into her ear.

"Smile like you would at someone you loved who you are letting go."

Mrs. Agreste nodded and opened the black umbrella. The director called for silence and the clapper stepped forward to mark the next take of 'SOLITUDE'. There was a distant yell of "Action!" and Mrs. Agreste turned away from the camera. Solemnly, she paced forward, an air of contemplation with every step. A hand stretched beyond the umbrella's reach in search for the rain that was no longer there. She paused as if she heard something and slowly looked over her shoulder. Her eyes locked with Nathalie and there was a moment of shock before it melted to a complacent smile.

Nathalie recognized her. This was the hopeless romantic character and, in this shot, Nathalie had become her lover. She had been described as, "the teenager who never grew up," by Mrs. Agreste. "She clings to the fantasy that there will come a day where she will be swept off her feet by her one true prince… or princess." That last part was always added with a wink. Nathalie knew her as the character whose tell was in her fingers, they always traced her forearm when she was lying.

The smile said, ' _You are free. There is nothing keeping you here.'_

Mrs. Agreste screamed, ' _Wait! Don't! You promised!'_

Nathalie wanted to run forward, embrace Mrs. Agreste, call her Emilie, tell her everything, and cry, dear God did she want to cry. But the past could not be changed. She took Natalia's hand and walked away.

"Why couldn't I cry?" Nathalie asked.

Natalia shrugged. "Sometimes it's too painful."

"Crying?"

"Life."

Nathalie turned over and got a glaring blast of sun. She shielded herself, rubbing her eyes, and found tears. That hadn't been a dream, per se, more of a daydream. After leaving her message, Nathalie had laid awake in the driver's seat for what felt like hours, waiting for Adrien to call her back. Memories drifted in like clouds and the one shaped like that text from Dumitru took hold. How Natalia got in there is anybody's guess. Still, it was an important memory. Nathalie could argue it was the moment she had given up. She wandered off that set until she wound up at the Agreste Manor. Inside, Nathalie had requested that Mr. Agreste transfer her to full-time personal assistant duties under his supervision. She no longer wished to work with Mrs. Agreste. The man had been surprised, to say the least. Every attempt he made to ask why she dodged with keen expertise. Eventually, he agreed.

For the next few years, Nathalie had quietly sat at her desk, typing forms, scheduling meetings, taking calls, all while avoiding Mrs. Agreste. She couldn't bear to be in the same room with the beautiful woman anymore. When she did, Nathalie only saw her mom and the tears that would never come. Of course, Adrien-Duty remained a part of Nathalie's job description. With each passing day, the boy grew taller. Each week, Adrien seemed to take another of her lessons in manners and personal fashion to heart.

The first time Adrien had said, "Thank you, Nathalie," without being told to, something had swelled inside her. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep the corners of Nathalie's mouth from rising, but she managed. Adrien grew to be a polite and compassionate young man and Nathalie soon put a name to that swell. She was proud.

Then Mrs. Agreste vanished...

Nathalie started the truck. The engine turned over with metallic _crank!_ Before she started driving, she checked her phone one last time. No calls. That was fine.

She had made him wait. Adrien had the right to make Nathalie wait for as long as he wanted.

* * *

The photoshoot finished without a hitch, despite the delay. The photographer commended Adrien for his work and wished the boy would feel better soon. As Adrien climbed into his limo, he noticed to his relief that his phone was dead. Emilie noticed too and offered to let him use her charger. He quickly declined. No phone meant no worries.

"Could we take the long way home?" Adrien asked.

The Gorilla looked at Emilie in the rearview and she nodded. He steered the limo towards the Seine. The sight of the river made Adrien think of 'SOLITUDE,' since there was supposed to be an amazing scene from that movie that was filmed on the banks. Comments on the film's page had praised his mother's performance in that scene. "Chilling!" they had said. "It has to be seen to be believed!" Adrien wanted to see. Finding a copy of that movie, however, proved to be impossible. 'SOLITUDE' wasn't being sold at any store and not even the most devoted film collectors had a copy. Someone had bought them all. There was a silver lining, though. Adrien found a screening in a theater downtown, one day only, but it wouldn't happen for a couple more months. Adrien immediately bought a ticket. Only then had he finally been able to sleep. Too bad his efforts had drained his phone.

"Stop," Emilie said.

The limo pulled over. Adrien looked at Emilie curiously, "What is it?"

"We have about an hour to spare, Adrien," she said and pointed out the window. Adrien followed her finger and saw they were next to a small park. At one of the tables, laughing loudly, were Nino, Alya, and Marinette. "How about you spend it with them?"

Adrien couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Really? But father—"

"Would agree that his son needs time with his friends," Emilie finished smugly. "Go on. We'll pick you up later."

Not daring to ask a second time, Adrien hugged her tightly. "Thank you!" The boy sprinted into the park, a toothy grin on his face. Emilie watched him wave to his friends who were quite happy to see him, especially Marinette. Emilie noted with a chuckle how the girl kept trying to hide her blush.

"Um, Mr. Agreste would agree, right?" Emilie asked the Gorilla with a touch of nervousness.

The Gorilla firmly shook his head no and drove.

* * *

Nathalie pulled into the lighted driveway as the sunset began. The drive back had somehow felt longer. It might have had to do with her phone. Every mile or so she'd glance at it, make sure it had reception, battery, wi-fi. All tip top shape. No calls.

 _Thunk_

That might have been the reason or it might have been the dread of coming back to the empty cottage. The place had more in common with a mausoleum than a home. It was quiet, deserted, and borderline haunted with mom's incessant _creak_. Day in and day out. What the hell was making that noise anyway?

 _Thunk_

Nathalie turned off the engine and checked the online sales. Less than 24 hours and the orders were still coming in. She'd have to check with Nicolae to see how much supply he had. While his boutique was large, it was no sweatshop. The man had a limit and that meant Nathalie had to put a cap on how many scarves she could sell.

 _Thunk_

Nathalie snickered. It was sort of ironic. She couldn't sell a dress for a decade because _nobody_ wanted one and now she couldn't sell a scarf because _too many_ people wanted them. Nathalie figured she should head to Bucharest now and ask Nicolae personally. Putting it off until tomorrow may be pushing her luck.

…

Nathalie paused. Her hand had frozen halfway towards the keys that still hung in the ignition. Something was missing. The very thought was ridiculous. Her phone was still in her other hand. The sample sat on the passenger seat. She had only left this truck to enter Mihaela's office. Did she leave something there?

 _Tap-tap_

They came from Nathalie's window, two of the faintest knocks near her head. A shadow was cast across her lap. Before she could stop herself, she looked. Framed by the amber sun was the silhouette of a woman and, for a brief soul-tearing second, Nathalie thought it was Mrs. Agreste.

 _This isn't fair,_ Nathalie thought. _I can't see her face. Why did she get to see me first?_

"Natalia, is that you?" her mom asked.

END

 _Happy Mother's Day_


	12. Chapter 12

_CODE RED! WE ARE AT DEFCON 12, PEOPLE! GET TO YOUR BOMB SHELTERS!_

 _11 CHAPTERS! A YEAR AND A HALF OF ME FIGURING OUT MY MOMMY ISSUES! IT IS FINALLY TIME!_

 _...mom's home…_

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 12  
_ By: I Write Big

Her footsteps echoed in the spotlessly white office. Nathalie could still remember when she had her interview in here. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been a mess back then compared to Mr. Agreste who had been a professional statue. Today, the tables had turned. His perpetually straight posture was ruined in a depressing forward slump. Several stray hairs frayed out from his usually pristine coiffed head. His hands, which were nearly always hidden behind his back, were balled into tight fists on his desk.

In a word, Mr. Agreste looked pathetic.

"Where is she, sir?" Nathalie asked, loud and clear.

Her presence must have frightened him because Nathalie saw Mr. Agreste actually flinch like a child. A ragged breath escaped his lips as if he had forgotten breathing was a life necessity. The man kept his gaze firmly set on his desk.

"When Adrien gets home, I'll tell you both," he said.

A flare of anger coursed through Nathalie. Something had happened. She had seen it the moment he had walked in. Today was the day when the Agrestes were to return from their business trip to the Far East. Only Mr. Agreste walked through the doors. That was strange. It was always possible that he dropped Mrs. Agreste off somewhere else before coming home. His exhaustion could be due to the long flight. But Nathalie could see this wasn't the case. This was different. With every step towards his office, that barren wasteland with ice-cold eyes had been chipped away. By the time he reached his desk, there was nothing left. For the first time in nearly 10 years, Nathalie was witnessing the real Gabriel Agreste.

And he was a coward.

"Sir, if Mrs. Agreste is in the hospital, just tell me where—"

"She's gone."

Nathalie's throat dried in an instant. Such a grave hoarse whisper combined with Mr. Agreste's broken demeanor can only mean one thing. There were no tears. Her eyes had stayed dry for her dad and they stayed dry for Mrs. Agreste. Instead, there was skepticism.

"Look at me," Nathalie said.

Like an obedient puppy, his face slowly swiveled up to meet hers. There was no mask. Mr. Agreste was laid bare before her. He had lost so much. He blamed himself. Yes, she was gone. Gone to a place that he couldn't reach… Forever? No… not forever. There it was. Hidden in the corner. Nathalie could see it, plain as day. The carefully crafted half-truth. The perfect lie. Mr. Agreste looked away with guilt as if he could sense Nathalie knew.

"Tell me where she is, sir," Nathalie said. "I can help."

"She's beyond anybody's help."

Nathalie stepped closer. "You don't believe that. You're lying to me and yourself. You don't believe that for a minute."

Mr. Agreste's attention went back to the desk. Strangely enough, he was specifically focused on an oval-shaped purple brooch, but Nathalie ignored that. The man was clearly not in the right state of mind. She pressed further, starting to feel desperate. She had pushed Mrs. Agreste away, the woman who had given her so much, and now her husband wasn't going to do everything in his power to save her? What kind of mad world was this?

"Whatever's wrong with her can be fixed. Tell me who to call, sir, which specialist we need to take her to, just tell me where Emilie is—"

"Enough!" Mr. Agreste's fists pounded his desk and the barren wasteland reformed. He stared her down with a ferocity she didn't think was possible. "Return to your station. You are to send Adrien in here as soon as he gets home. If he asks, she's _gone_ and that is _all_ you will tell him. Have I made myself clear?"

Nathalie wanted to protest but her words were trapped. He had never snapped like that before. Mr. Agreste had been a strict but fair boss, never raising his voice or acting cruelly. He was intimidating but he commanded with calm authority and grace, never anger and fire... until today. And that was when Nathalie realized the terrible truth. Just as it had nearly done to Elena, the need for love had completely destroyed Mr. Agreste. It was too late. She couldn't help him. Nathalie felt absolutely small and powerless. She was an ant trying to stop a tsunami. That was nothing compared to how she felt now in that truck.

"Hi..." Nathalie rolled down the window and said again, "Hi, mom."

"I thought that was you," she said. "You drove right past me while I was chopping the firewood without so much as a honk."

Nathalie said nothing. She was too preoccupied with squinting against the setting sun, trying to get a good look at her mom for the first time in a decade. The color in her hair was gone, faded to a brittle silver. Suppose there wasn't a need to keep up appearances since dad was gone. Other than that, she was exactly like Nathalie remembered: a narrow, somber face that was wrinkled by a lifetime of laughter. Nathalie, at last, understood why she had been so drawn to Mrs. Agreste. With that kind smile, her mom and that beautiful woman were practically twins, give or a take a quarter century. But none of those were the most important detail. Nathalie had finally seen her mom and now she knew.

Her mom wasn't disappointed to see her.

"You took my truck for two whole days," her mom said.

"Yeah."

"Did you refill the tank?"

"No."

"You want to come inside?"

"Yeah."

Nathalie pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out. To her shock, she found that she stood a full head above her mom. The woman was practically Adrien's height. Had she always been this short? Had her mom shrunk or had Nathalie gotten taller? All of Nathalie's memories had her mom standing well over her.

"Come along, I ordered delivery from Greta's," her mom walked towards the cottage at a tired pace while brushing the woodchips off of her sleeves. "I'd cook you something but all that's left in the fridge are Dumitru's sandwiches. Poor boy would starve without Elena."

Nathalie followed, wondering if this was another dream. Was this really the same mom who had locked herself inside her room up until now?

 _The door was never locked,_ she heard Natalia say and there wasn't a trace of doubt.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of juicy meats and spices. Mixed in there was something… sour? Her mom set out some plates and brought over the plastic Greta's bag. "I wish I had some of my homemade ones leftover, but Greta still makes them good," her mom said while taking out the to-go box. There was no mistaking the smell anymore and Nathalie's heart fluttered.

"Sarmale?"

She breathed the word like it was holy. Pork and rice stuffed in cabbages, of all things, slow cooked for hours until tender. It was one of the cornerstone dishes of Romania. Nathalie couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten Sarmale. No, wait, she could. It was her going away dinner. The last food she'd eaten before she got on the plane. And when she landed, she found a surprise Sarmale in her suitcase, wrapped with care and a loving note. One last taste of home.

Home...

"Mom..." The first tear fell on her plate. Several more followed and every drop meant for dad and Emilie came out at once. It was true. Home really is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in, all of you, the good, the bad, and the lies. "I'm… I'm… I'm not a fashion designer. I'm a secretary." Nathalie hunched over her plate, unable to bring herself to look at her mom. "I tried. I really did. I thought I was doing everything right, b-b-but, I don't know, no one wanted me. And-And-And everyone in Bucharest believed in me so much and I didn't want it to have been all for nothing. I didn't want to tell you that I messed up, I even changed my damn name to Nathalie I was so scared but then dad…"

She lost her voice. These were just excuses. Nathalie knew what she really needed to say.

"I'm sorry, mom. I'm sorry."

Nathalie stayed there, hunched, petrified. She had let everything slip, even here fake name. Naive and helpless, that's what she was. Wasn't she supposed to have grown up by now? After so many years, she was still a child. She was still Natalia.

"MmmmMmm… HmmMmmmmHmmm… HmmHmm…" A sweet humming echoed in Nathalie's ear. It was a song she knew by heart. It was the song she had tapped on her bedroom wall the first night here. Her mom's thin soft arms wrapped around her and Nathalie was lightly rocked side to side.

Dumitru stroked cheeks.

Dad patted heads.

Mom hummed songs.

And Nathalie? Nathalie warily took her mom's hand and gave a slight squeeze. Her mom didn't pull away. Nathalie squeezed tighter, basking in the comfort of that gentle heartbeat.

"You don't hate me?" Nathalie asked.

The words sounded ridiculous coming out of her mouth. Nathalie felt like a toddler who had been told she wasn't going to be grounded. But her mom didn't respond. Instead, her small but strong arms lifted Nathalie to her feet and led her away from the table. They exited the kitchen, passed the shelves and mantels lined with the faces of the entire Sancoeur family except her, climbed the old wooden stairs, and went down the hall until they stood before a door. It was her mom's door. Imposing as a barbed-wire fence, once again the black iron handle waited. Her mom made no move to open it. She only kept humming, her head resting against her daughter's arm.

Nathalie reached forward. Her hand was trembling. Her fingers gripped the cold metal and, for an instant, she thought it wouldn't budge. With the slightest push, the door swung open.

First, she was confused.

Then, she was surprised.

Finally, she laughed.

It was a short choking laugh, something like a cross between a cough and sneeze. Really, she didn't how to react to what she saw. Every wall, every shelf, every inch, had her face. Her mom's bedroom was filled with pictures of Natalia. There she was learning to ride a bike. There she was singing on stage dressed as a flower. There she was with Nicolae outside the boutique. There she was as a bridesmaid at Elena and Dumitru's wedding. There she was on graduation day. Each frame was polished and gleaming. She hadn't been thrown away or stored in the attic to gather dust. Natalia was right here with mom.

Then something else caught her eye. In the corner sat an old rocking chair. From the shallow grooves carved into the floor, Nathalie could tell it had been used a lot. Hanging off the chair's back was a scrap of fabric. For some reason, Nathalie thought that scrap looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she had seen it. Nathalie picked it up. At her touch, the rocking chair moved with a recognizable _creak._ She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. It felt familiar too. She turned it over and remembered. There, sloppily hand-stitched by a young girl who was only beginning to learn, were words.

ÎMI IUBESC MAMA

'I love my mother.' Simple, sincere, and the only thing that mattered to little Natalia a long time ago.

"You never called me once since the day you left," her mom said. "Did you stop loving me?"

"...No," Nathalie whispered.

"I never stopped loving you either," her mom said and pulled her into a hug. "So, do I call you Natalia or Nathalie?"

The woman choke-laughed again and shrugged. It didn't matter. They were the same person.

* * *

"And then I said, 'Dude, if that's a dog, then I'm a turtle!'" Nino finished his tale with exploding laughter. The rest of the group joined in. Adrien laughed as well, even though he didn't get the joke. He was just happy to be with his friends. It had been so long since he was able to relax with them like this, to be able to sit and talk and not have to worry about anything. Even Marinette was talking—although not directly to him—with enthusiasm and confidence and that made him proud. He wished he had more days like this.

"Uh, Adrien, isn't that your driver?" Alya pointed behind him.

On the curb, Adrien saw his limo park and the Gorilla climb out. The gargantuan man gave Adrien a silent expectant look.

"Has it been an hour already?" Adrien sighed.

"U-U-h, no, it hasn't." Marinette pulled out her phone and checked the time. The strip of red tape was still covering her camera lens. "You've only been here for—" Adrien accidentally made eye contact and Marinette devolved back to stutters. "Tw-Tw-Twe-Twe-Twe—"

"Twenty minutes, yeah," Alya finished.

Icy dread crept up Adrien's spine. He turned back to the limo and peered at the windows. He didn't see Emilie in the backseat. He rushed to the vehicle but Emilie wasn't in the passenger seat either. Where was she? She had been here only twenty minutes ago to drop him off to hang out with his friends… without his father's permission.

"Did father fire her?" Adrien asked.

The Gorilla nodded and held the door open for him.

Adrien stared at the empty car, his mind brewing. _Why? Why her? She had been so nice,_ Adrien thought. _She was actually my friend. She really wanted me to be happy. If I had just said no… If I had just stayed in the car, she'd still be here... If I had just said no... If I had just gone home... If I had... just... said..._

"NO!" Adrien shouted, making the Gorilla jump back in surprise.

The boy ran. He blindly sped right into the streets. Cars swerved and horns blared but he kept running. By some stroke of luck, Adrien wasn't hit and he lost sight of the Gorilla behind an extra-long truck. He went deeper into the city, ducking into alleyways at random. He didn't care where he was going, he needed to escape.

"Whoa, man, slow down!" Plagg held onto Adrien's shirt for dear life. He had never seen the human run so fast. Even with his magical flying abilities, the Kwami wouldn't be able to keep up. "Take it easy, will ya? It sucks, I know, but this isn't gonna solve anything! Will you stop! What about your promise to Nathalie?"

Adrien stumbled to a halt, bracing himself against a dumpster.

Plagg was right. He had promised Nathalie that he'd stop running away. He had meant it too. He wanted to learn to face his problems, not as Chat Noir but as himself. He wanted to show Nathalie's trust in him was not in vain. And here he was, breaking that trust. Adrien leaned against the nearby brick wall and slid to the ground. His mind started to clear. His racing heart began to slow. The boy looked around and concluded that he had no idea where in Paris he was. That was going to be a problem since his phone was still dead.

"That's it. Deep breaths," Plagg said. "Take a minute. Think it through. You'll be fine." The Kwami's cat-like ears suddenly perked and he dove under Adrien's shirt.

Adrien was at first perplexed by Plagg's actions, but then he heard it too. The metallic stretching and whirring of wire bounced off the alley walls and a certain girl landed a few feet away. Her yo-yo gathered in her hand.

"L-Ladybug?"

* * *

"Hello, you've reached the voicemail box of Adrien Agreste. I can't come to the—"

Gabriel hanged up what had to be his dozenth attempt to contact Adrien and threw the phone to the floor. Things had not gone as planned. He had expected Adrien to be upset by Emilie's firing, but he had not anticipated him to run away again. Seems his son and the temporary assistant were much closer than he thought. According to the Gorilla, all it took was the mere mention of her being let go to set Adrien off. Guilt stung every fiber of Gabriel's being. He hadn't meant to hurt his son like that. He'd only seen a fortunate opportunity for another strong Akuma and he couldn't let that slip by. Now, his pride and joy was somewhere in Paris, refusing to answer his phone. When this was over, when he brought _his beloved_ back, Gabriel promised himself that he'd tell Adrien everything and apologize.

Until then, there was work to be done.

This plan could actually be salvaged. He had fired the assistant due to her negligence in watching Adrien. Who better to find him?

Gabriel turned to the golden mural and entered the code.

END

* * *

 _Food is a powerful thing. Our memories are very closely tied to food. Our favorite meal, our favorite flavor, what we eat to celebrate and what we eat to comfort ourselves at our lowest._

 _And yet the greatest 5-Star restaurant cannot compare to a homecooked meal made by somebody who loves you._


	13. Chapter 13

_Sorry for the delay. I wanted to get a good chunk of my book written before I came back to this. 140 pages seem like a good chunk._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 13  
_ By: I Write Big

"But, I don't understand. What happened to mother?" Adrien asked.

The explanation had been so abrupt and left more questions than answers. Gone. That's what father said before dismissing Adrien. Nothing else.

"She's gone, Adrien. I'm sorry, that's all I can say," Nathalie replied, nearly repeating father's words exactly. She remained at her post, blocking the doors to his father's office with her body, as he had found her when he got back from the photoshoot. When he'd first came around the corner, he swore he saw a tear running down Nathalie's cheek. But then she noticed the boy and the tear was gone. In its place appeared the stoic emotionless mask she always wore. She'd then escorted him in, waited patiently by the door as father gave his excuse of an answer, and then escorted him back out.

"Fine, I'll ask father." Adrien tried to go back in, but Nathalie's arm shot out and stopped him.

"Your father is busy. He's not to be disturbed."

"What do you mean? What is going on, Nathalie?" Adrien cried out, feeling his world slipping further and further out of control. "Why can't father talk to me? What happened? What do you mean mother is _gone_?" Then the meaning of the word truly dawned on him. He tried to push the thought away. It couldn't be. That sort of thing couldn't have happened. Why not? It happens to people everywhere, every single day. What made Adrien the exception? His fists clenched. His throat dried to a desert. Warm water filled his vision. "Nathalie, is mother d... de..." He couldn't finish.

Her blocking arm rose and gently touched his shoulder. He looked up at her and saw the tear had returned to her cheek. That told him everything. If it could break Nathalie, then it had to be true. Mother was gone. Nothing could be done.

He felt so small and powerless. An insignificant ant being washed away. He would never feel this awful again. But he would come close almost a year later in that alleyway.

"L-Ladybug?"

"Hey, A-A-Adrien… um, what's up?" Adrien gazed up in awe as the polka-dotted heroine shuffled her feet and shifted her gaze to and fro. "I was… _patrolling_ , yeah, patrolling, and I-I-I saw you run through the streets and I thought, 'That could be an emergency, I should check you out—I mean, check _things_ out!' Not you, specifically, just things."

 _Patrolling?_ Adrien thought. He only donned his claws when an Akuma appeared. It was strange and yet impressive to learn Ladybug took their superhero roles so seriously.

"So..." Ladybug seemed to finally settle on her foot placement, having moved only a few inches closer to him. "How are things?"

The question pulled Adrien out of his stupor. His shame and regret came back full force and Adrien hugged his knees. He was always happy to see Ladybug but he didn't want her to see him like this. "It's nothing. You don't want to hear about my problems."

"YES, I DO!" Ladybug shouted.

The declaration echoed down the alley walls. Her voice was so loud and abrupt that Adrien immediately sat up straight and leaned back from the girl. Ladybug seemed just as shocked by her own outburst. She took a moment to clear her throat and tone down her voice.

"As-As-As the Protector of Paris, the safety and wellbeing of her citizens are my responsibility," she said. "That includes you. Whatever is bothering you, Adrien, you can tell me."

Adrien bit his tongue. He had been keeping his thoughts locked away for so long, it would've been easy to say nothing. But saying nothing this week had only made things worse, not only for him but also for Emilie. "I made a promise," he said. The dam that held back the rest crumbled and the words poured out like a waterfall. "I promised someone that I wouldn't run away anymore. That I'd stand and face my problems. I thought I was keeping that promise but this whole time I've actually been _hiding_ from my problems. Distracting myself with excuses, talking to friends, doing my modeling job. And now, when another problem presented itself, I ran away, just like I promised I wouldn't."

He tightened his arms around his legs, burying his face so Ladybug wouldn't have to see his shame. He wouldn't cry. He refused to cry. He didn't deserve to cry.

"I hide too."

Adrien peeked. Ladybug was squatting in front of him now, looking down with a sad smile.

"I hide a lot more than you think. I know I'm supposed to be this fearless superhero but there are some problems even I can't face. There are moments where I'm actually, um, well, a coward."

Adrien couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could she think that of herself? She was Ladybug! She was the bravest most amazing girl he had ever met!

"But that's okay. You know why?" Ladybug raised her head, facing Adrien. That smile of hers looked a lot less sad. "Because you can change. It's not easy. If it was, everybody would be perfect. You just need a little help. Someone very dear to me has been helping me with my problems. Let me help you with yours."

Ladybug offered her hand.

Adrien hesitated, but only to admire her. She truly was a hero. He wished he could someday introduce Marinette to Ladybug. A talk like this would do wonders for that girl's confidence. Adrien firmly took her hand and Ladybug pulled the boy to his feet.

"Now, how can I help?" she asked.

Adrien took a deep breath. "I sort of indirectly got my friend Emilie fired. I need to find her."

"Emilie? You mean the Emilie you brought to the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie?"

"Y-Yeah…" Adrien stared at her. "How did you know that?"

"Da, um, it's a great bakery and I eat there a lot. Love their croissants," she said with a toothy grin. "And I've seen that new assistant of yours stop by almost every day, buying chocolate-covered coconut mounds. If she's feeling bad, she might be there."

"You really think so?" Adrien was getting hopeful again. "Thanks, I'll check—"

Adrien's words were cut off by Ladybug wrapping an arm around his waist. With her other hand, she launched her yo-yo into the air where it caught on a chimney.

"Hold on," she instructed.

Adrien grabbed hold of the heroine and tried not to blush as the girl of his dreams carried him into the sky.

* * *

Where would I start?

That's the question Nathalie had asked herself in the back of her mind since she returned to Bucharest. She meant how would she start explaining herself after ten years of silence. Over the week, that question took on several different meanings. How would she start her scarf design? How would she start things with Mihaela? How would she start her life again here in Bucharest? Now, as she sat on the bed across from her mom, Nathalie asked herself that question one last time and decided to simply start with the other question that had been bothering her.

"Why did you never come out of this room, mom?"

The woman leaned back in her rocking chair with a gentle smile. "Would you believe it was because I thought it's what you wanted?"

"No." Even if Nathalie hadn't caught her mom's old tell—a flare of her nostrils—she would never believe that.

Her mom laughed her deep throaty laugh, the wrinkles around her mouth folding and unfolding like an accordion. "Would you believe I was trying to give you a taste of your own medicine?"

"Yes." Same tell. "But that's not why."

Her mom rocked a few more times with a contemplative look, the stalwart stare of a politician about to testify about her crimes. "Would you believe I don't know? Would you believe the night you got here I lied to Dumitru about being sick on the spot, chose not to come out, and had no idea why? Spite? Fear? Anger? Joy? Would you believe that after seeing you for the first time in ten years all of those emotions and more hit me like a truck at the same time because I realized I no longer knew who you were, I didn't know who you grew up to become, I didn't know what to think? Would you believe I needed time to… what do kids say these days… process?"

This was the truth, Nathalie could see it, the pure honest truth. "You were _hiding_?"

The corner of her mom's mouth twitched. She obviously wasn't proud. "Maybe if your dad was still around, he could've talked me out of it."

"Hiding? From _me_?"

"Weren't you hiding from me in Paris?"

Nathalie supposed she had been. She also supposed she was hoping for more. An excuse to hate her mom, a way to make her into the bad guy. But in the end, her mom had been scared, just like Nathalie. Like mother, like daughter.

"My turn. Why did you call?" her mom asked.

"Huh?"

"Ten years, not a peep. Then, out of nowhere, 'Hi, mom, can I drop by?' What changed?"

Nathalie froze.

New Year's.

That night seemed like ages ago now. She heard the clink of the flute glasses, the pop of the fireworks. She tasted the bubbles of the champagne and the bravery they gave her to dial the number. But most of all she saw Adrien. He was so much like his mother. Kind and understanding, naive yet strong. He changed her. He was the push Nathalie needed.

"I made a promise," Nathalie finally said.

"A promise?" Her mom raised an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you tell me you're engaged?"

"Engaged?!" Nathalie's face twisted at the suggestion.

"When your dad and I became engaged, he made me promise to tell bunica even though we both knew she wouldn't approve. He convinced me it was the right thing to do," her mom said with a shrug. "Not engaged then?"

"No, I'm not engaged, mom. Not even dating."

"I see. Then you're a mother."

If _engaged_ had come out of left field, _mother_ appeared out of another dimension. It wasn't even a question. Her mom had said the M-word with such certainty as if it were a foregone conclusion. Nathalie wanted to shout NO! at the top of her lungs but her mind was reeling from the very idea. Her voice came out as short sporadic coughs. Where was this coming from? How did her mom get to _mother?_

"It's obvious," her mom said as if her daughter wasn't choking on her response. "You're not engaged, you don't look like you're dying, I'm not dying anytime soon as far as I know. The only thing left that could've given you the courage is a kid. Nothing toughens you up more than raising a kid, trust me, I know."

"Adrien isn't my son!" Nathalie spoke clearly at last. She wanted to say _I don't have a kid_ , but the name slipped out. "I mean, yes, I helped raise him since he was five but that was my job. I tutored him, I dressed him, I fed him, I took him to his photoshoots because that was my _job._ I'm not Adrien's mother, I am his glorified babysitter _._ " Nathalie glared at her mom, daring her to say otherwise. Her mom nodded, listening to everything Nathalie said, never challenging, only rocking her chair. For a while, the _creaks_ were the entire conversation.

"All right, then who did you make your promise to?" her mom asked.

Crosshairs were aimed directly at Nathalie's head. She'd been cornered.

Nathalie stomped out of the room, the doubts broiling. She stormed down the stairs, heading straight for her coat. She didn't need to be here. Sure, things had started out all lovey-dovey and kumbaya but once they got that out of their systems it was straight to 'when are you getting married? Any kids yet?'. Why couldn't her mom just hate her? It would make things so much easier. Why did Nathalie have to fail someone who was willing to forgive her?

Nathalie lost her grip on the coat.

Her mom was willing to forgive her. That's what she saw. No hostility, no resentment. Nothing.

Why did that make Nathalie so… angry?

A strip of green hung on the peg before her. Cotton, weaved together to form an ugly treeline. Ridiculous reindeer pranced across. For some reason she couldn't explain, watching the gaudy scarf Adrien gave her calmed Nathalie's doubts to a bare simmer.

She heard her mom slowly descend the stairs, stopping just before she reached the ground floor.

"Adrien already has a mother," Nathalie said softly, still watching the scarf. "Mrs. Agreste... Emilie… she's… I can't compare to her. She was… everything to me. And I pushed her away. That's all I've been doing since I left, mom, pushing people who care about me away… including you. Ten years, mom. Nobody forced me to ignore your calls. I did that. And you should hate me for it."

"I can't." Her mom climbed down the rest of the way and came to Nathalie's side. Nathalie kept watching the scarf. "I'll yell at you, I'll call you selfish, but I won't hate you for following your dream."

"Mom, I'm a secret—"

"Secretary, yes, I heard you. So what? Those Parisians don't know what they're missing. It's their loss. I still haven't seen a better seamstress come out of Bucharest. Nicolae has his work cut out for him, the poor man. But you, Natalia—Nathalie—you should _not_ measure your happiness by your success or your failure. Otherwise, you'll _never_ be happy."

Nathalie thought back to her years in Paris, trying to find the moments where she had been happy. There were a few. When Mrs. Agreste asked for her business card, the first time she saw one of her designs on camera, the talks with Mrs. Agreste. It wasn't adjusting the dress that she enjoyed, it was the talks. Just being able to talk to someone who listened made the day brighter. And after Mrs. Agreste, it was Adrien who brightened her day. The boy had slowly become her greatest design. She adjusted him like her dresses but instead of a needle and thread, Nathalie used manners, an education, and a healthy diet. When she was looking over Adrien, the days were bearable. She could forget her mistakes for a while. She could be happy. And after all those years, it was Adrien who got through to her. Told her it was okay to try again. Adrien truly was Nathalie's greatest work.

Her mom gestured to the scarf. "Did Adrien give you this?"

Nathalie nodded.

"Is he a well-behaved boy?"

Nathalie nodded again, this time with a fond smile.

"Raised by you, he must be. If your promise to him means enough to make you come back home, the two of you must care a lot about each other. Adrien may not be your son, Natalia, but you are without a doubt his mother."

Nathalie didn't nod, but she didn't shake her head either. She only watched the scarf and finally knew the answer to Adrien's question.

* * *

Swinging across the rooftops was much scarier without his Chat Noir powers. Granted, Adrien knew he was in no danger with Ladybug holding him, but without the extra layer of magical protection, his heart pounded away in fear like a firecracker. Every time they swung down at what felt like Mach-5, he had to shut his eyes and force himself not to scream.

"You okay?" Ladybug called over the wind.

He pointed his face over her shoulder so she wouldn't see his terror and nodded.

"I think I see her."

There was one last sudden drop and then Adrien felt blessed solid ground under his feet. He opened his eyes to see they were at his school. Next door was the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie. Sure enough, there was Emilie, a wax baggie bulging with coconut mounds in her hand. The telltale signs were there: slumped shoulders, dragged steps, lowered head. Being fired had done a number on Emilie.

"I don't know if I can fix this," Adrien admitted to Ladybug.

"Maybe not, but you can at least be there for her."

"Yeah… Yeah, you're right." Adrien made his way across the street. He had no clue how he was going to handle this, but he wouldn't back down. He would try. If he failed, he'd try again. He made a promise to Nathalie and he was going to keep that promise. Adrien stepped onto the curb and reached a hand towards Emilie.

That's when he saw the Akuma.

The black butterfly landed on her wax baggie and shattered into a billion pieces.

Time slowed to a crawl as the baggie changed into the color of ash. Adrien could hardly speak, each gasping breath like swallowing thorns. The pink outline of wings appeared over Emilie's face. Her usually sweet, gentle smile warped into an ugly, barking sneer.

"Look out!" Ladybug's scream sounded so distant like she called from the end of a long tunnel.

He was aware of the slight weight of Plagg under his shirt, his legs unconsciously priming themselves to duck into an alley and transform.

To run.

To hide.

To let Chat Noir solve all of his problems for him.

"Let her go." Before Adrien knew what he was doing, his hands were gripping Emilie by the lapel. He glared daggers into her possessed eyes, not seeing Emilie, but the puppetmaster inside. "You let her go right now, Hawkmoth!"

Ladybug shouted from behind, "Adrien, move! Get out of the—!"

"I WON'T RUN AWAY!"

To Adrien, his voice had become as strong as a lion's roar. Emilie went wide-eyed, her anger overtaken by sudden slack-jawed disbelief. Adrien imagined Hawkmoth was making the same exact face and that filled him with great satisfaction. The bastard had better be listening. "Emilie has done _nothing_ to deserve this. She's a good person whose only mistake was putting my happiness ahead of hers. You take advantage of people's anger without giving _any_ thought to what they're going through. But not this time. I won't allow a monster who uses others for his dirty work to take Emilie away."

He grabbed the darkened baggie. Emilie's hand snapped around his wrist like a snake. Her grip was so tight that circulation was cut off but Adrien held on. There was the sound of stretching wire and Ladybug's yo-yo wrapped itself around Emilie's arm. The heroine pulled with all her might but Emilie wouldn't release Adrien. The pink mask radiated like the sun and the ugly, barking sneer returned. Adrien threw his entire weight backward, but the woman wouldn't budge. With Hawkmoth's magic, she'd become an immovable wall.

Adrien's hand was getting cold, he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Adrien wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. How could he possibly outmatch her without his Miraculous? This was a stupid idea.

Then he saw the glimmer.

In the corner of Emilie's eyes, behind the mask, behind the fury, behind Hawkmoth, he saw her. Small and weak. Trapped. She looked just like he imagined he did in the hallway outside father's office with nothing but Nathalie's hand on his shoulder and the word _gone_.

"Emilie, I'm sorry," he said gently. The struggle softened and the glimmer grew stronger. The mask hadn't left but Adrien could tell he wasn't talking to Hawkmoth anymore. "I didn't want you to get fired. It wasn't fair. Of all the people my father has hired, you were one of the kindest. You never treated me like a stepping stone to get a better job. You listened to me. You helped me. And I'm so happy I met you. I won't let you get turned into an Akuma. Please, let me help you!"

For a nanosecond, for a fraction of an instant, her grip on his wrist weakened.

Adrien ripped his arm back. The baggie tore in half, spilling coconut mounds on the sidewalk. Among them appeared the black butterfly. The pink mask vanished and Adrien caught Emilie as she fell to her knees.

"Whoa, what? What happened?" Emilie asked. "Adrien, when did you get here?"

Adrien breathed easy as warmth returned to his hand. Behind him, he could hear Ladybug purifying the Akuma. He did it. He stood his ground and didn't run away.

Just like he promised.

END

* * *

 _It's too bad I waited. I wanted to to do the whole Reject The Akuma moment before the show, but Chloe beat me to the punch._

 _Final chapter, tomorrow._


	14. Chapter 14

_End. Just let it end._

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Part 14  
_ By: I Write Big

Nathalie could see the toll the loss was having on Adrien.

The boy, once vibrant and a source of boundless energy, was slumped over his untouched breakfast. This was the third day he hadn't eaten any food. She needed to get something in his stomach, otherwise, he'd collapse at the next photoshoot. She stopped reading out the day's schedule and observed him. For the first time since they met, the boy was unreadable. His face didn't move, his eyes stared emptily. However, Nathalie knew exactly what was going through Adrien's mind.

Nothing made sense anymore.

His mother was gone and yet there was no funeral. Mr. Agreste had made it clear there would be no ceremony or burial, a sign of serious denial. Adrien hadn't seen his mother since her flight and yet the world kept spinning. That was the hardest part: accepting that life goes on even when you don't want to. Mr. Agreste never put on a black suit, the kind you were supposed to wear in mourning, and instead tripled his workload, almost never showing himself. He ordered Nathalie to keep Adrien on his daily routine. Tutoring followed by Chinese lessons followed by a photoshoot followed by a networking event followed by piano practice. Lather, rinse, repeat. Day after day. Week after week. Right now, Adrien was probably wondering if the world had gone insane. She'd often wondered the same thing when her dad died.

"Adrien, please, eat."

He didn't move, just stared straight forward without a trace of inner thought. It pained Nathalie to see him growing his first mask.

 _What would Mrs. Agreste do?_ Nathalie asked herself. _What would she say?_

Nathalie put the planner on the table and stepped closer. With cautious hands, she touched his shoulder. Even that felt like too much. He was so fragile. A little glass doll.

"Adrien."

He didn't move. Nathalie knelt and dared to get a little bit closer.

"Everything is going to be all right, Adrien."

The poor boy, at last, looked at her, his eyes wider than the moon. He didn't know if what she said was true. Then, not making a single noise, Adrien picked up his fork and ate. His bites were barely big enough to be considered nibbles, but he would go on to finish the entire plate.

To be honest, Nathalie didn't know if what she said was true either, but those were the words she wished someone had told her when her dad died. They were the same words echoing in her head now as she looked down at her phone. Adrien's name waited at the top of her contacts list. He hadn't called her back yet. Maybe she should wait. Nathalie tapped the name, but before her thumb touched the screen the contacts list disappeared and was replaced with the incoming call screen.

It was Adrien.

* * *

Nathalie's message ended with what Adrien thought was a sniffle and the automated voicemailbox robot started listing deletion and saving options. Adrien hanged up. He had gone a whole day without his phone and actually managed to forget the cursed thing existed until Emilie informed him his father was trying to call him during his Chinese lessons. A knock at the front door pulled Emilie out of the room as he plugged in his phone. After the arduous bootup process, his heart had stopped when saw he'd missed an opportunity to talk to Nathalie. Hearing her voice stirred up the forgotten pain.

Only this time, he was ready.

Making sure Emilie wasn't about to walk back in, Adrien dialed.

She picked up on the third ring.

"I was actually just about to call you," Nathalie said.

"I need to tell you something," Adrien said quickly. He wanted to laugh in relief that she answered, make a joke about finally getting a hold of her. He wanted to celebrate. But he knew if he didn't get the truth out now, he'd convince himself to keep quiet and this week would start all over again. "I'm scared of not seeing you again, Nathalie. I know what I said on New Year's and I know it's selfish of me to say but I don't want you to leave." Fast and hard, like ripping off a band-aid. It stung but there was a great weight off his shoulders. "I never knew how much you meant to me until you left, Nathalie, and it's a lot. More than I ever thought. It's still your choice and I'll still miss you, but I don't want you to go."

Adrien clenched his eyes shut. He braced for the scolding.

"I agree," Nathalie said.

"What?"

"I said I agree, I think I should stay in Paris. I also think this is an important discussion we should have face to face, so why don't you come downstairs?"

The line went dead.

"Downstairs?" Adrien whispered.

He bolted down the hall until he reached the marble staircase. At the bottom, next to her suitcase, smiling right back at him was Nathalie. Adrien slowly climbed down, fearing each step would break the illusion and take Nathalie away.

"You're… You're back?" he asked, his voice weak.

"My plane landed an hour ago."

"B-But what about your family and—"

"Is this him?" A much older and much shorter woman with a strong resemblance to Nathalie marched in.

Emilie was close behind her, looking rather stressed and out of breath. "Please, ma'am, you can't wander around Mr. Agreste's house—"

"My my, what a handsome boy." The old woman cupped Adrien's cheeks and inspected him closely. For what, he had no idea. Her French was a little choppy and she spoke with a thick accent Adrien thought was East European. Finally, she nodded with satisfaction and let him go. "A fine boy. He's a fine boy, Natalia." The woman marched into the next room with Emilie on her tail.

"Did she call you Natalia?" Adrien asked, trying to wrap his head around what exactly just happened.

"It's what she calls me," Nathalie said with a shrug. "Apologies, Adrien, my mom can be _forward_."

"That was your _mom_?"

"She'll be staying with me for the rest of the week and a few days after that before she flies back to Bucharest. We're overdue for some mother-daughter time. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak to your father about resuming my post."

"Wait!"

Nathalie stopped and looked at the boy with practiced patience.

"Are you really staying?" he asked. "And it's not because of what I said about not wanting you to leave, is it? Because you shouldn't stay because of I what I said. It was just something I needed to get off my chest. You should—"

Nathalie hugged him.

Adrien couldn't remember the last time Nathalie hugged him. In fact, he didn't think she ever had hugged him. And yet her warmth and her comfort felt so familiar. As if she'd been hugging him his entire life. A word sparked. A word that seemed completely out of place. A word so random Adrien couldn't understand why his young mind had thought of it and he wouldn't understand for a few more years.

The word was mother.

"Everything is going to be all right, Adrien." A tremble, both strange and pleasant, shook the boy. "As I said on New Year's, I choose to be here. You mean a lot to me too, Adrien."

Nathalie took her suitcase and went to father's office.

For a while, Adrien was the only person there. He could hear Emilie politely chasing Nathalie's mom around the mansion but he couldn't tear his sights away from the office door and he couldn't stop wondering about the woman on the other side. The hug, the kind words, they were surprising, yes, but it was her smile that struck him. Nathalie had smiled at him. She was… happy.

There was another knock at the door.

Adrien, seeing he was the only one around, straightened his shirt and answered it. There, he found his second surprise of the day.

"Marinette?"

His friend flinched. She was probably expecting the Gorilla or Emilie to open the door. He'd have to be careful not to scare her. Making sure not to smile that extra millimeter, Adrien asked gently, "What are you doing here?"

Marinette fiddled with something behind her back, her mouth tightly held shut. She didn't look terrified as much as unsure. As if she still hadn't decided whether to go through with her plan. Adrien waited, letting her work at her own pace. Finally, she seemed to decide and held something out to Adrien. At first, he didn't recognize the crumpled strip of plastic, but then it clicked. This was the red tape Marinette had placed over her phone's camera.

"I don't need this," she said.

"R-Really? Are you sure?" She was sure. He could hear the determination in her voice. Something about Marinette had changed.

Marinette nodded and took a deep breath. She looked him right in the eye and spoke clearer than she had ever spoken before. "In front of my family's bakery, the other day, I was there, I saw what you did, heard what you said to Emilie. Y-Y-You were so b-b-brave and-and-and-and..." Her determination wavered for a second. She moved her gaze to the side and then back to him like a swimmer coming up for oxygen before diving back under the water. "I won't run or hide from my problems either. I have to face them head-on. So, I don't need this."

Marinette held her arm straight out to Adrien, the red tape waiting in her palm. Adrien reached out to take it. He couldn't help admiring her courage. She was speaking to him as she did to Nino and Alya. She had finally gotten comfortable around him.

The girl turned pale. She suddenly looked like she was going to faint. "Hey! Whoa! Marinette, are you okay?"

Whimpers, high and squeaky, were the only noise she could make as she stared down at her hand. Adrien followed her eye line and realized their hands were still touching. His fingers had unconsciously curled around her palm. It was almost like he was holding her hand. Adrien took the red tape and hid his offending arm behind his back with an apology.

"It's fine, I'm fine, you're fine, everything's fine!" Marinette spun around, cradling the hand Adrien had held, and stiffly made her way towards the gate. Guilt stung Adrien. He should've figured. A shy girl like Marinette who has so much trouble talking to people must be petrified by physical contact. He'll need to watch himself. She was probably on her way to the nearest sink to wash that hand thoroughly.

"Marinette?" he called before she got too far. The girl's rambling on the many different "fine" things in the world stopped and she cautiously peeked over her shoulder at him. "This means we can talk at school now, right? You know, _without_ phones?"

Color returned to her cheeks, a few more shades of red than he expected, and her eyes widened. To him, it looked she hadn't even considered this as a possibility. But it was. It really was.

Marinette nodded.

Adrien smiled. "I'll look forward to it then."

"Me too."

She left, her walk a lot smoother this time. As she went, an idea came to Adrien. Maybe, when the day came a few months from now, he could take Marinette with him to see 'SOLITUDE.' He didn't know why, but he'd like Marinette to be there.

* * *

Nathalie watched the Dupain-Cheng girl leave the Agreste grounds from the window. She'd first noticed the girl when she and her mom arrived at that mansion. It was only for a brief moment but she saw the girl peering around the corner, making the same scared but 100% committed face Elena made when she was about to ask out Dumitru for the first time. As Nathalie and her mom passed through the mansion gates, Nathalie decided to scoot a rock against the wrought iron, leaving the usually locked gate a tiny bit ajar. Her foresight had paid off. The girl was striding away, victory in her steps.

"You're back early," Mr. Agreste said instead of hello. The barren wasteland with a pair of ice-cold eyes melted slightly. There was the barest hint of a smile. "I am glad to see you, Nathalie. This week has been rather enlightening," he said and after a second added, "especially about Adrien."

"Adrien, sir?"

"Yes, well, ahem, I let your temporary replacement go due to negligence but had to re-hire her. Seems Adrien has grown close to her. He was quite adamant about her staying."

Adrien had stood up to his father? And _won_? This simultaneously impressed and amused Nathalie but she didn't show it. The mansion was her workplace, which meant the mask of professionalism was back. She wished she had been around to see Adrien finally put Mr. Agreste in his place. The boy will probably tell her all about it later.

"Apologies, Mr. Agreste," she said. "I meant to tell you this on New Year's but it slipped my mind."

"Tell me what?"

"Your son is not a kid."

Mr. Agreste said nothing. He only gave a neutral slight nod but in that nod, Nathalie saw begrudging acknowledgment. Adrien must've hammered the point home. Finally, he said, "About your position here, Nathalie, how would you feel about a designer position with the Gabriel Fashion Company?"

Nathalie said nothing.

"As I said earlier, Adrien doesn't want the new assistant to leave. I would suggest having her fully take over your duties, freeing you to pursue your fashion inclinations. Your exclusive scarf design sold remarkably well and I've seen what you can do with dresses. Your talents would make an excellent addition to the company."

Again, Nathalie said nothing. She waited for Natalia to come out. She waited for a glare of sun breaking through the curtains to wake her. She waited for this dream, which could not be real, to end.

"Is that not where you want to be?" Mr. Agreste asked.

Natalia did not come out. The sun did not wake her. This was real. "Yes, Mr. Agreste, the job sounds perfect," she said, her throat dry. "But..."

Mr. Agreste hummed and raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But, I would also like to continue my duties here at the Agreste Mansion, if at all possible, sir. To continue assisting you and Adrien. Otherwise, sir, I don't think I would be happy." It was the truth.

Mr. Agreste gave the same neutral slight nod. "Very well. That should be manageable. You have worked here long enough to warrant an assistant in addition to the promotion. The new assistant will work with you hereunder your direction. The Spring Lineup show where Adrien will be modeling that new derby hat is around the corner. Audrey will most likely be attending. There are still a few pieces that'll need some fresh eyes. Can you start on Monday?"

"Wednesday, sir," Nathalie said, using every ounce of her self-control not to scream for joy. "I still have some leftover vacation days. I intend to spend them with my mom."

"Wednesday it is, then." Mr. Agreste sat down, his tone of finality signaling the end of the discussion. "Good day, Nathalie, and welcome back."

Nathalie stepped out of the office, closed the door behind her, and jumped like a kid in a candy store. She punched the air and, believe it or not, Nathalie "Natalia" Sancoeur danced. It was the silly kind of dance everyone does when, once in a blue moon, everything just goes right. Nathalie then saw she had an audience. It was the young woman who had answered the door earlier. She was wiping away a layer of sweat.

"So sorry to interrupt, but I've lost track of your mom," she said between gasping breaths. "Could you..."

Nathalie professionally put away her smile, ignoring the burning heat in her cheeks. "I'll find her. By the way, Mr. Agreste will tell you more, but starting next week you'll continue working here under me." She offered her hand. "Natalia. Everyone calls me Nathalie."

"I am? I mean, _I am?_ " the young woman asked fervently. Clearly, she hadn't thought her employment at Gabriel was going to last long. She shook Nathalie's hand graciously. "That's wonderful to hear. I promise I'll do my best, Miss Natalia, I mean, Miss Nathalie."

"Just Nathalie."

"Right, of course, Nathalie. And you can call me Emilie."

The name resounded in Nathalie's head. Behind them, Nathalie's mom marched by, admiring a super expensive vase as closely as she had inspected Adrien. "No, ma'am, please put that down!" Emilie chased after her again.

Nathalie watched. Now that she looked more closely, this Emilie appeared to be around the same age as Nathalie was when she first met Mrs. Agreste. Anxious, eager to please, ready to do anything to get the job done. Had she been like that? Is this the kind of person Mrs. Agreste saw?

Probably.

She'd never really know.

But it was Nathalie's turn now.

With a soft smile, she followed after her mom. The two of them had a lot to catch up on.

END

 _Epilogue. Tomorrow._


	15. Chapter 15

_No comment_

* * *

 **Nathalie's Resolution  
** _Epilogue  
_ By: I Write Big

Nathalie placed her latest sketch designs for the Spring Lineup on Mr. Agreste's desk. He'd be back in a few minutes which gave her a rare moment of privacy. The man's office was designed to be borderline soundproof, except for the door, to allow for maximum concentration which also made the room a perfect place to relax and reflect. The past couple of weeks had been better than Nathalie could've ever imagined. With Emilie handling most of Adrien's chaperoning outside the mansion, Nathalie handled his indoor Chinese lessons and piano practice, as well as his meals. At one point, Adrien asked if Nathalie would like to start eating breakfast with him; an idea she'd never considered before but she readily agreed. Emilie joined them on occasion, usually bringing chocolate-covered coconut mounds. Those meals became something to look forward to. They reminded Nathalie of her calming talks with Mrs. Agreste. As far as Nathalie could tell, the Dupain-Cheng girl had not asked out Adrien yet and Adrien was completely unaware of her feelings. Emilie was doing her best to push Adrien closer to the girl but Adrien seemed too preoccupied with helping his friend improve her _social skills_. Perhaps approaching the Dupain-Cheng girl was the better strategy. Nathalie often considered whether she should give relationship advice to the shy girl while spending her afternoons adjusting and designing to her heart's content.

"So, what are your plans now?" her mom had asked before boarding the plane back to Bucharest. "You're a designer like you always wanted. Maybe it's time to look for a husband, eh?"

Nathalie dodged the question with expertise and promised to call. She did. Twice a week.

Still...

Her mom's question hung in the air. She had achieved the job she'd wanted since she was a child. This was her dream. What now? Maybe marriage wasn't so crazy. And, if she was being perfectly honest, Mr. Agreste wasn't as cruel as he initially appeared. He listened to her suggestions and always gave her credit if he implemented them. Almost half of the Spring Lineup would have her name attached.

It almost felt like she'd become Mr. Agreste's right hand.

Nathalie turned to the golden mural of Mrs. Agreste. She'd often catch Mr. Agreste staring at this wall with a forlorn look. There was a heart in that barren wasteland after all. There must be if someone as pure as Mrs. Agreste loved him. She touched the mural, asking herself if what she was considering was wrong. If Mrs. Agreste was still here, she would never think it. Never in a million years. She wouldn't do that to her.

But Mrs. Agreste wasn't here.

Did that make it okay?

Nathalie looked up at Mrs. Agreste's resting face as if the mural would come to life, possessed by its subject's soul, and answer her. It didn't. It was just a mural. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then her finger sunk into the wall.

She pulled her hand away, thinking she'd accidentally poked a hole in the piece of art. What she saw instead was one of the mural's flakes of gold had dipped into the wall, past the confines of the canvas. Unsure of what was going on, Nathalie pressed the flake again. It gave at her touch. A hidden switch clicked and the flake stayed in place. Nothing happened. Nathalie's eyes wandered to the other flakes in the mural. She tried them. There were more hidden buttons, each slid and clicked into place. She kept searching until she'd used almost all ten of her fingers. There was another click. This one came from under her feet.

Before she could react, the floor under her opened and a miniature elevator carried her down. The descent was so fast, it was more like a drop. Nathalie barely had enough time to yelp before the floor shut above her head and the world became dark. She could sense she was still falling, her feet still planted on the small circle of the floor she knew was safe.

 _What is this? Some kind of delivery chute?_ she thought in a panic. Her mind raced to make sense of the situation. There shouldn't be any danger. The worst that could happen is Nathalie getting dropped in the dumpster behind the mansion. That's probably what this was: Mr. Agreste's private trash disposal slide or something. Nathalie hoped the stains would wash out.

Then the light returned. She was going down a tube into what looked like a grand cathedral. Most of this cavernous room was pitch black, but a great circle window shined sunlight on what looked like an altar. The elevator came to a stop on the altar's floor and the tube opened. Nathalie stepped out, searching for a panel of some kind to send her back up. There was nothing. She prayed the elevator wouldn't shut and leave without her. Maybe she could find some stairs. The altar drew Nathalie's attention again. It was overrun with plant life, a miniature garden with wild vines covered with white flowers which had yet to bloom. In the center of that garden looked like… a person.

Nathalie slowly approached, each step reverberating around her. When she made out the person's face, she shouted.

"Mrs. Agreste!"

Nathalie ran, no longer scared. She reached the altar. It was Mrs. Agreste, still wearing the light pink pantsuit she had on when she boarded the plane to the Far East. Only she was trapped inside some kind of glass coffin. Nathalie banged her fist against the prison.

"Can you hear me? Mrs. Agreste? Emilie? Are you okay?"

Mrs. Agreste didn't respond. She laid there with a peaceful face as if she was in a deep sleep. Nathalie couldn't tell if she was breathing or not.

"I'm going to get you out of there! Hold on!"

She found buttons and levers at the bottom. Nathalie pressed them at random, hoping one would free her friend. A particularly long lever looked promising. She pulled it. There was a drawn-out hiss. A row of lights at the bottom of the coffin started to go out, one by one.

"NO!"

A strong hand pulled Nathalie away. It was Mr. Agreste. He pulled the lever and hit a few buttons. There was the inflating sound of a vacuum being created and the row of lights filled back up. The man pressed himself against the glass, checking Mrs. Agreste for something. When the man was satisfied, he said, "I'm sorry you had to see this." He was whispering.

"Mr. Agreste, what—" Nathalie's voice cracked and she started to shout. "What is going on? Why is she in there?"

"I told you. She's gone," he continued to whisper. "At least, she will be if she wakes up. She won't survive."

Nathalie couldn't believe this. After all this time, Mrs. Agreste—Emilie, her friend—was right under her feet the whole time. She'd accepted her death, actually started to move on. And her husband was secretly keeping her on life support? No. This was wrong. This was so wrong.

"Sir," Nathalie said, keeping the last remains of her mask on. "You also told me she was beyond anyone's help. If that's true, you can't keep her like _this._ "

"I know," Mr. Agreste said, his sad tired face—his _real_ face—reflecting in the glass. "That's why I need the Miraculous."

"The Mirac—"

Nathalie covered her mouth and gasped. She took a step back in fear. Shivers crawled up and down her spine in an endless loop. She suddenly noticed that the unbloomed white flowers on the vines weren't flowers. They were cocoons. The sun glared in her eyes and she saw shapes in the giant circular window. Lines crisscrossed, forming various abstract designs. But containing all of those lines was one distinct form. They were the wings of a butterfly… or a moth.

"You?" she asked the man who bowed his head in shame. "You're Hawkmoth?"

"Everything I did was for her." He sounded pathetic, feeble as if he had been telling himself this for months but wasn't entirely sure if it was true anymore. "With the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, I can make a wish. Any wish. I can bring her back."

Mr. Agreste said nothing else. He was admitting defeat. Nathalie could see that. He wouldn't stop her if she went straight to the police. Maybe a small part of him wanted that to happen. He'd been going down this path alone for too long. Being exposed, having to justify his actions, restarting life support, it all had taken the last will to fight out of him. Whether Nathalie pulled the lever or turned him in, Mr. Agreste wouldn't resist anymore. It was up to her.

"I'll help."

Mr. Agreste looked up at Nathalie, unsure of what she'd said. If there was a chance to bring Emilie back, then she'd take it.

"Let me help you, sir. Tell me what to do," Nathalie said with firm resolution.

THE END

* * *

 _And that's it. That's the end._

 _It took me a long loooong time to write this story because of how personal it was. I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried every time I tried to sit down and write more. But each time I finished a chapter, I felt relief, like I had dropped half a ton's worth of emotional baggage. I guess writing really is therapeutic._

 _I'm glad I kept this one-shot going and saw it through to the end. Looking back on my other fics, which are more lighthearted than_ Nathalie's Resolution _, I'm proud to see my growth as a writer. I'm so grateful to everyone who read this fic, to the people who loved it and let me know, to the people who felt it could be better and left constructive criticism. It feels amazing to tell a story that gets a reaction._

 _You may have appreciated how this fic ended or you may have thought it was the worst ending ever. That's fine. At least, there weren't any giant space spiders. I think we can all agree on that._

 _My time now is going to be focused on writing my book, an actual book. I will update every single one of my stories when it's done with info on where people can read it. If you want to follow my progress, you can follow RomanHowell on the bluebird website that begins with the letter T. That's all the clues I'll give you. You'll have to figure out which site I'm talking about from there._

 _I will always love fanfics and, if inspiration strikes, I'll write another. But as of today, I have completed all of my fics and I've written about half of my book about a certain Pink Devil._

 _Until then, I write slow, I don't write often, but when I do..._

 _I Write Big._


End file.
